


If die, only in Manhattan

by everythingispoetry



Series: If die, only in Manhattan [12]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cancer, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, New York City, Press and Tabloids, Team Bonding, Terminal Illnesses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-17
Updated: 2014-07-06
Packaged: 2018-01-24 14:33:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 23,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1608572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everythingispoetry/pseuds/everythingispoetry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Putting pieces back together.</p>
<p>(Part 12: September - October 2013)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> Music for this piece: [Bruce Springsteen - Streets Of Philadelphia](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4z2DtNW79sQ)
> 
> Thanks to Kae or beta!

When Tony wakes up, Pepper and Rhodey are still asleep and he can hear remote clinging of crockery from outside the ‘shop, which means Happy is already there. It looks like it’s just a few minutes after sunrise so Tony makes an effort to sneak out of the _bed_ unnoticed; not everyone is as good with little sleep as he is.

‘Morning,’ he mutters to Happy when he’s closed the door behind himself, running a hand through his messy hair. ‘Cocoa?’ he adds with wonder, taking in the sweet chocolaty scent.

‘Much better,’ Happy declares, holding up a small cup and raising an eyebrow. Tony makes his way across the room and when he takes a sip, he smiles with pleasure; it’s an espresso with some dark chocolate dropped into it, melting slowly at the bottom.

‘I probably shouldn’t,’ Tony notes, sipping the rest of the coffee.

‘You might need it today.’

‘Ha. I might, no?’ Tony half-agrees, glancing at the 24 hours news feed Happy was watching on mute. They seem to be overusing his name but that’s only to be expected.

‘You planning anything for today, boss?’

‘I should meet the team. We’ll see how everything else goes. They’re possibly going to be a little mad at me –’

‘As expected.’

‘Of course,’ Tony agrees with a scoff. It’s understandable. To be honest, he kind of needs it, as a reminder. ‘I’m not sure we’ll have time and patience for any press today.’

‘Or anytime soon,’ Happy mumbles, taking the empty cup from Tony’s hand, and adds, ‘And Stane?’

‘Him,’ Tony closes his eyes for a briefest moment, ‘I’ll know when it’s the right time for him.’

The look Happy gives him is almost scary.

 

 

Steve is at the door when Tony gets to the Avengers HQ, Tony walks up to him quickly, pretending that he hasn’t just been pacing two blocks away and gathering courage to actually cross the street and walk the two hundred meters.

‘Hello, Tony,’ Ijon greets him in a cheerful voice, ‘how are you on this fine day?’

Tony blinks.

It’s right, it actually is a beautiful day, early sunlight warming up the city in the preparation of a perfect Indian summer day, bathing the glass and brownstone in soft glow. He hasn’t noticed before, walking the streets with his head down and on autopilot.

‘Hello,’ he replies.

The pavements are still radiating cold from the chilly night, though.

‘Everyone in?’ he adds, looking questioningly at Steve’s messy hair and rumpled t-shirt.

‘Peter isn’t. We’re having breakfast.’

‘Team breakfast?’

‘Just quick breakfast. Less washing up. They’re finishing.’

‘You have machines for washing up,’ Tony points out and swallows, glancing past Steve at the shady corridor.

‘We try to save the worlds from villains on regular basis, it seems right to care about the environment or we won’t have anything to save,’ Steve declares in a lecturing tone, making Tony snicker, and then leans closer and adds, ‘my little idiot.’

‘Steve!’ Tony pretends to be annoyed but still leans into Steve’s arms a little bit more. ‘Sorry I’m keeping you hungry, then.’

‘I ate earlier –

‘Of course you did.’

Steve scratches the top of his head goofily and lets go of Tony, asking, ‘Did you sleep well?’

‘Fine,’ Tony grins, thinking about the mess of limbs and pillows he woke up amidst. ‘Quite fine, thank you.’

They stand in silence for a long moment, Tony unsure what to do and Steve waiting for him to make up his mind. Tony feels bad about this whole deal, about lying to his teammates for so long in more ways than one; it’s a different situation than with Pepper and Rhodey, back then: the Avengers know Tony is dying. He _just_ has to explain everything else.

‘Fury?’

‘He’ll probably appear out of nowhere at some point, unannounced. Hermes seems to have a bad influence on Ijon sometimes.’

‘Oh boy,’ Tony sighs and takes Steve’s hand, leading him inside. ‘Families stick together, huh?’

The doors close themselves and suddenly, there is a voice behind, saying, ‘We do, don’t we?’

‘Peter,’ Steve greets the young man, frowning slightly. Peter comes up to Tony and pokes him on the arm, frowning slightly, and then takes two steps backwards.

‘Tony, my man,’ Peter says, ignoring Steve, ‘how’s life treating you?’

‘Not too bad,’ Tony replies; it’s true enough, all things considered. ‘You?’

Peter pouts.

‘What is it this time?’

‘You’re in all the news, papers, tv, national, international, _everywhere_ ,’ Peter points out, sounding hurt, and wraps his arms on his chest. Steve gasps behind Tony, but he ignores it. ‘Spider Man has never had that. I’m jealous.’

‘Fuck you, kid,’ Tony says with just a bit of affection in his voice, taking the two steps between them and ruffling Peter’s already messy hair. ‘Ignore that, Stevie,’ he adds and whispers to Peter, ‘sorry I pressed you to do tell them, back then. It’s plain strange to not pretend all of sudden.’

‘Just smile, Iron Man.’

‘Clap and smile,’ Tony agrees, nodding, and makes a face. ‘Lesson learned, huh?’

‘I do take advice from the best,’ Peter declares and a second later he’s halfway through the hall. ‘Do keep up, old men,’ he laughs and disappears into the conference room; Tony can smell the good coffee well enough.

‘Did he –’

‘Yes, he said that, you should know better than take it seriously. Also, give him some slack, ok? He’s just a kid. It’s tough for him.’

‘And it’s not for us?’

‘In a different way,’ Tony admits, making an _isn’t it obvious?_ face, and starts to walk down the hall.

‘He looks up to you,’ Steve says quietly, standing still.

Tony scoffs, thinking about the wonder in Peter’s voice that’s there _all_ the time when they’re working together, and thinking about Riverside kids, and chooses not to think about it.

Steve doesn’t.

‘You’d be a good dad,’ he says, and it makes Tony stop abruptly and turn around. He gives Steve a sharp look and waits for him to walk closer.

‘You can’t just say things like that,’ he states firmly, clenching his hands into fists inside his pockets. ‘You know, just randomly. I can’t even say kids and I don’t go along because you know about Riverside, but kids and me _don’t_ go along, so well, and I don’t want you to say next thing that you want to have a kid with me –’

‘What?’

‘– A biological mixture of our DNA or just a small copy of me, I’d die before it was born, it’d be hell of an awful thing to do to someone –’

‘Tony,’ Steve cuts in, putting his hand on Tony’s shoulder and giving him a delicate squeeze. ‘You’re being ridiculous here.’

‘That’s what some people do, you know. Breed before they die for the sake of their _loved ones_ , or whatever.’

‘… People really do that?’ Steve asks with a mixture of wonder and surprise in his voice. Tony nods. ‘Oh hell.’

‘Maybe it works for them,’ Tony shrugs, ignoring how warm Steve’s hand feels.

‘This century is darn strange,’ Steve mutters, and then adds, in a no-nonsense voice, ‘but we’re not here for that.’

Tony nods and they make way to the end of the hall and turn right; Tony sneaks through the half-open doors and frowns as soon as he takes it in; there is neither Spider Man nor most of the team inside. He looks over his shoulder but judging from Steve’s surprised face, he didn’t know about this either.

‘I though we all were meeting?’ he half-states, half ask, directing it at Natasha who is painting her nails without looking up. It’s just her and Bruce in the room.

‘They’ll be here later,’ she says easily, and then bites her lip in concentration. Tony would think it’s funny if he wasn’t busy wondering what’s really going on. ‘Steve?’

‘Yes?’

‘Can you leave us alone?’

‘I… uhm, I guess,’ he says when Tony gives him a small nod, and leaves the room back into the hall. Tony decides to go with the flow and sits down in one of the cushioned chairs, stretching out his legs and crossing ankles.

‘So?’

‘That one time, back after Manhattan battle, when we were cleaning up,’ Bruce says, his voice a little tight. He clears his throat before continuing, ‘you said you were just tired. Like all of us.’

‘I was.’

‘I asked you –’

‘Are you annoyed because I lied to you? Because I didn’t lie. I was tired,’ Tony says, glancing between Bruce and Natasha. She’s almost done; Tony wonders which look she’ll give him when she finally tears her eyes away from her hands.

‘No, no, of course, I understand. We were… asked, to talk about business with you, before everything else.’

‘You and business, Bruce? Et tu?’ Tony questions, sighing internally, and adds, ‘why not Agent?’

‘Phil is at HQ with Fury, talking to some big guys over the world who are questioning S.H.I.E.L.D.’s collective sanity,’ Natasha replies, pocketing the nail polish bottle, and gives him a full blank stare. Nice one. ‘Regarding letting Tony Stark save the world.’

‘Funny, that,’ Tony mutters drily.

‘You know how it is with that kind of men. Even if you know you have them in your pocket, you still have to pretend you care,’ she replies smoothly, conversationally, in the way she’s been talking with Nate since she made sure he wouldn’t hurt Steve, her almost-best friend. Tony is somehow surprised that she’d not suddenly treating him like he’s sure she would treat Tony Stark, if she met him some before the disappearance. That’s a silly assumption but he made it anyway –

‘It’s because you were taught the wrong things about people, when you were a kid and later,’ she continues, eyes still on him, as if she was reading his mind. ‘And you’ve lived them for too long.’

‘A lecture?’ he smirks, true Stark style, leaning back in the chair.

‘I know you have access to our databases and you know this: most of my life has been pretending to be someone else. I wouldn’t want someone to treat me as one of the aliases.’

‘But this is not an alias anymore. Not a game –’

‘Isn’t it?’ she asks, a quick flash Tony can’t identify in her eyes. She turns to Bruce and nods at him, waving her hands to help the polish dry more quickly.

‘So, the business –’

‘Yeah?’

‘To be honest, it’s just one question,’ Bruce says sheepishly, glancing quickly at the papers in front of him. ‘And I wanted to ask it personally. In the light of what you revealed yesterday,  uhm, the tech –’

‘S.H.I.E.L.D.’s got what it’s got,’ Tony declares, sitting up a bit; it’s easier to breathe with his back straight. ‘Peter will be in charge of all that.’

‘Peter –’

‘You can help, but I do trust him with it.’

‘I wasn’t going to imply you don’t,’ a faint grimace flashes though Bruce’s face, ‘no one silly enough to question it?’

‘Dying man’s privilege,’ Tony laughs shortly, ignoring Natasha’s sharp look, ‘people let you do what you want. Peter and I, we’ve worked together enough, and he has some nerve, he’ll keep S.H.I.E.L.D. in check.’

‘As…?’

‘Spiderman, of course.’

Bruce frowns, but there’s a little grin crawling onto his lips.

‘Imagine the tech business meeting with Spidey in his costume and a suit over it –’

‘Don’t encourage him,’ Bruce pleads seriously enough, but he can’t stop himself from an amused chuckled. ‘But he’ll do it, won’t he?’

‘And it’s exactly what we need when I won’t be around to make a mess of international news,’ Tony agrees; it’s so smooth these days, and saying _death_ and _die_ and all the euphemisms is getting easier and easier.

Natasha sighs deeply and stands up, saying, ‘I’ll get the rest away from nibbling on the snacks,’ and she disappears behind the door silently.

‘Pleasure to meet you _in person_ , Doctor Stark,’ Bruce says when she’s gone, extending his hand over the table, and Tony raises an eyebrow at it. He stands and walks up across the table.

‘You too, Big Guy. Doctor Banner,’ he corrects himself innocently, wrapping his hand around Bruce’s, and pats Bruce on the back. There is a long moment of silence, interrupted only by Tony’s soft footsteps as he paces around the table.

When they start hearing voices from the corridor, remote and echoing, Bruce clears his throat again and asks, ‘So, I’m not that kind of a doctor, but is there nothing…’

‘Nope. If there was, do you I think I’d be here?’

‘You would,’ Peter’s voice comes from outside, of course, super-hearing, at least Steve is more subtle about his better senses, ‘’cause you love us!’

‘Now I very much hate you.’

‘You’re joking,’ Peter says hurtfully, opening the door, the rest of the team behind him. Peter is dressed in his work clothes, sans the mask, and stuffs his face with whatever is in the bowl he’s holding. Looks like M&M’s.

‘Maybe I am,’ Tony cuts the mock-argument by sitting down and starting to unbutton his shirt, he looks up at Steve three buttons in and gets a slight nod. They sit down around the table, politely ignoring Tony’s unexplained behavior; Clint puts the cups he was holding in his hands in front of everyone. His circus upbringing must help him with tricks like carrying six scalding hot items at once with perfect ease, Tony decides.

‘So, no one is surprised by my revealed identity?’ he looks at their half-guarded faces, nods to himself. ‘Steve talked with you all about this, didn’t he? I guess that makes some things a bit easier. What did he say, don’t ask about everything at once? He’s still the same person?’ he raises an eyebrow at Steve who shrugs innocently.

Funny, really.

‘I wasn’t too forthcoming at the conference yesterday,’ Tony says, shifting in his chair. ‘Contrary to what some people believe, even as Tony Stark I like to preserve some privacy. Even if it might not seem like that,’ he starts when his latte is put in front of him, he ignores his internal voice commenting on how he’d love a proper coffee. ‘Bruce here just asked me if I’m sure there’s nothing that can be done. And you know, we saved the world together a few times, I trust you guys, and I think I owe you some answers. For all those lies. Sorry for that.’

‘Nate – _Tony_ –’

‘No, Clint. I do owe you some answers. And I do _want_ to say I’m sorry, it wasn’t easy to pull that whole thing off, and not only because it’s complicated to lead two different lives,’ Tony pauses, his hands playing with the last button, as they have a moment to read into what he didn’t say. ‘It’s cholangiocarcinoma. Bile duct cancer. Hard to spot, tough to treat. A real rarity.’  

‘How long have you –’

‘I’ve had the first tumor  removed and started my treatment by the time Iron Man made his introductory speech on TV,’ he replies, leaning back in the chair, keeping his clothes wrapped around his chest.

They gasp collectively.

Tony gives himself points for Natasha’s stare.

‘ _What_?’

‘I thought it was a more… recent thing,’ Clint mutters. Peter’s staring, Tony realizes it might have been a good idea to mention that earlier. ‘And that it’s why you’d come out…’

‘I had fun pretending everything was fine,’ Tony says, and finds himself adding, although he’s not sure why, ‘at least outside of home.’

‘It’s been almost three years,’ Natasha mutters, giving Bruce a quick glance that Tony doesn’t fail to notice. Bruce might not be that kind of a doctor, but he sometimes _is_ , when the team needs him.

‘I got my diagnosis in autumn, and had the surgery soon after that –’

‘The months after you came back from Afghanistan,’ Clint points out. Tony closes his eyes, breathes out, in, out.

‘Yeah, a couple months after I came back, we noticed something was wrong. Me and JARVIS,’ he clarifies, remembering that not everyone takes JARVIS for the most obvious part of every ‘we’ that doesn’t involve Steve. ‘The first surgery went great, and the adjuvant treatment afterwards, too.’

He takes a sip of the latte, tasty enough, and goes back to fiddling with the hems of his cuffs.

‘So it’s recurrent?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Recurrent tumors are usually harder to treat,’ Bruce explains, rubbing his temples. ‘Sorry,’ he adds. Tony blinks and then laughs. ‘Uhm?...’

‘Don’t say sorry, Tony hates it when you say sorry, especially that it’s not your fault,’ Ijon speaks up, making everyone but Tony flinch.

‘Thank you, dear,’ Tony says firmly, looking up to cross eyes with the nearest camera over the table, ‘let the adults talk. And yes, it was unresectable. They gave me a number, an estimation. That was almost two years ago now. They said two to three years –’ he ignores them again, looking somewhere behind Steve’s head, face blurry and out of focus, because it’s a safe spot, ‘– my doctor said just recently, less than half a year, they think. They don’t really know, but they think,’ he laughs a little bit too bitterly, ignoring Steve’s wince somewhere in his field of vision. ‘This complicates things,’ he adds, opening his shirt, taking the masking cap off, and letting them see the reactor.

He’s made sure not to let more people than absolutely necessary know about it, and he’s never talked about it or anything similar – why would he, not being Stark – so it takes them a moment of total silence to take it in.

‘Arc reactor,’ Bruce and Peter say simultaneously.

‘Miniaturized,’ Bruce adds with wonder, staring openly. It’d make Tony feel self-conscious if he wasn’t used to be stared at, in all possible way on the intimate scale, since he was a kid. The metal casing in his chest is not the prettiest thing ever, admittedly, and it seems to stand out more than when he first installed it, because he’s skinny now. The scars around it are not better, or the scars from surgeries lower on his abdomen.

He doesn’t care though, he could show them off – they’re battle scars, in a way. That’s what people told him before and it feels right.

‘Shrapnel from the ambush,’ he explains, tapping on the reactor’s blue surface, ‘had to keep it out of my heart somehow. Car battery at first, and I tell you, desperation and timelines work pretty well, all things considered. I built the first baby in that cave, it wasn’t the best but it did its job.’

‘So this device protects your heart?’ Thor asks, speaking up for the first time, and Tony flashes him a smile.

‘Yeah, it does, but it also complicates other things. Like, treatment options. Not a good life choice to put something inside your chest, if you do have a choice.’

‘The casing reaches two inches inside the body, part of sternum and ribcage had to be removed, certain organs, for the last of a better description, rearranged. Lung capacity is down by fifteen percent, the heart –’

‘We don’t need a full lecture, Ijon, they’re already a bit green,’ Tony cuts in, looking around. He knows his fingers are playing with the reactor in a subtly protective way but he doesn’t feel like he should stop. Steve seems to think so, judging by the look on his face, but Tony ignores it. ‘It can be a _small_ problem during surgeries, and any experimental treatment that might be out there,’ he nods at Bruce, ‘so I stuck to what already is out there to cure me. Didn’t work, that happens too often. End of story.’

‘So, a transplant –’

‘Too risky with this,’ he taps the reactor again, ‘also, the tumor’s extrahepatic, so it wouldn’t work. And if you bring up 3D printers, yeah, in five years maybe. The tumor’s in the worst place and a printout working artery that can’t be connected to my own doesn’t seem like a recovery plan to me.’

‘I do not know these matters,’ Thor frowns, ‘we have different ways of dealing with illness in Asgard.’

‘I’ll tell you all about it,’ Tony assures him, making a mental note to arrange a meeting. It’ll be a blast, spending time with Thor is always something else. ‘Oh,’ Tony says, realizing that he hasn’t said the other very important thing yet, ‘so JARVIS will pilot Iron Man suit from now on. My A.I.,’ he clarifies, remembering that not everyone has had the chance to meet J.

There’s a pause, _again_ , interrupted only by Peter opening a bag of Cheetos.

Really?

‘So, that’s it?’ Clint asks, leaning over the table to steal the bag from Peter’s hands.

‘All I wanted to tell you –’ he stops, feeling his phone vibrate in the jacket’s pocket. ‘Sorry,’ he says, looking at the screen, there is a text message from Rhodey. He’s eavesdropping via JARVIS, of course.

 _Forgot about me?_ , the message says. Tony blinks. Ah.

 _ETA?_ he types, and the reply comes a second later.

 _5 min_.

‘That’s it about me dying,’ he flashes them a perfect Stark smile, ‘and that’s not it, in a way, I guess,’ he says, pocketing the phone. ‘There’s something I sent a memo to Fury about, and talked with Steve and he was supposed to talk to you about yesterday.’

‘A new member of the team –’

‘And we said yes,’ Clint finished Natasha’s sentence. ‘We could use some air force kids on the team. Air force is cool. I’d trust a pilot to fly a suit,’ he adds, giving Tony a sly look. Tony pretends to be hurt. He _is_ much better than Rhodey at flying the Marks, years of practice it is.

‘Honeybear will be here in a moment. With JARVIS.’

‘So we’re having a fun morning, guys,’ Peter says, folding himself in a way that should be impossible in his chair.

‘I’ll get James a coffee –’

‘We’ll come back in a sec,’ Tony agrees, standing up, and follows Steve outside. ‘Were they mad at me yesterday, watching the press conference?’ he asks in a whisper when they’re halfway down the hall. Maybe he should run from the room like that, but he needs a breath, and it’s meds time, too.

‘They were slightly annoyed, I’d say, for a moment. They weren’t mad. They were sad, if anything.’

‘Ugh,’ Tony shivers, taking his little medicine dispenser from a pocket. Steve puts a glass of water in front of him and moves to the coffee machine. ‘Hate making people that.’

‘They were sad for you, not sad because of you, you know.’

‘I know, I know –’

‘You don’t sound it.’

‘Don’t go wise old man on me now, please,’ Tony sighs, drowns the glass and puts it onto the table. Steve gives him _the look_.

‘How does it feel?’ he asks, walking up closer to Tony and wrapping his arms around Tony’s waist. ‘You look tired.’

‘I always look tired, don’t I?’ Tony brushes it off, leaning into Steve’s embrace. ‘It feels strange. Maybe because you obviously forbade them asking Stark questions. Or too many of any kind of questions…’

‘There will be time,’ Steve mumbles and gives Tony a quick kiss. ‘You’ve got lots to deal with for the next few days. I’m sure Pepper has reporters stalking her, and senators, and the public opinion –’

‘The internet loves me as much as it hates me.’

‘They’d love you more if they knew more, I heard people already saying you should get a Nobel prize for the reactor –’

‘No serious talk, Steve, please, as you said we’ll be having enough of that,’ Tony protests, wriggling out of Steve’s embrace and taking a step back.

‘Tony?’

The worry is Steve’s voice – this is what being Nate did to Tony, he’s too easy to read now, and he can’t be bothered to put up his public Stark masks.

Tony shakes his head, wishing for the thoughts to go away, and turns around, ready to go back and introduce Rhodey to the team properly, but he might as well tell Steve, because Steve won’t let it go now.

‘My dear dad never got the prize,’ Tony says, knowing that Steve’s listening attentively, unmoving. ‘When I was a kid, I promised myself I would, so I would be better than him, and would be recognized as better – and so far, I fucked it up. I wasn’t better. I got some _attention_ , and recognition, but it’s never been enough to make that promise real.’

‘You can do it now.’

‘Maybe I can,’ Tony agrees, a shiver running down his spine. It takes him a few moments to continue. ‘Nominations deadline in February 1st. The prize is awarded in October.’

‘Ah,’ Steve exhales, and says nothing else.

When the silence starts ringing in Tony’s ears, he adds, ‘There have been instances of it being awarded posthumously.’

‘ _Tony_ –’

‘It’s just one prize, though,’ Tony says, turning back to face Steve, ‘and I want it very much, I’ve wanted it very much for decades, but I don’t care _that_ much. There are things more rewarding than that. The team. Iron Man. Some things Nate’s done… And I _will_ get it posthumously, anyway’ he adds, smirking.

‘I hope you’re not talking about a girl,’ he hears a voice from the corridor.

‘Platypus!’ Tony shouts, making Steve wince. At least he’s used to the nicknames by now.

‘Ijon said you run out of the team room with Steve,’ Rhodey says, appearing in the doorway, and comes up to Tony to give him a brief hug. He’s not wearing the suit which makes the embrace rather nice and soft. ‘Are they being a pain?’

‘I needed to take a breath, and this,’ he says, shaking his mini meds box.

‘And?’

Steve looks at them briefly, stirring milk into Rhodey’s coffee.

‘And they’re all giving me the look, apart from Peter, but he did his share yesterday.’

‘Idiot,’ Rhodey mutters fondly and messes Tony’s hair in a brotherly movement that almost makes Tony think Steve’s envious, but he understands Tony and Rhodey’s relationship too well for that. ‘Can we, then?’

‘After you,’ Tony gestures towards the door, and they go back to the conference room, Rhodey first and Steve at the end, with two mugs in his hands, Tony realizes, he hasn’t notices that. One of them is places in front of Rhodey, and the other in front of him’ he recognizes the sweet scent of a vanilla nutritional drink; it shouldn’t surprise him that Steve checked with JARVIS if Tony had breakfast, which he, admittedly, didn’t.

‘Colonel James Rhodes, everyone – some of you might be familiar with his name,’ Tony looks towards Natasha/Clint corner, they give him sharp nods. ‘He’s been with the Air Force for over twenty years and has been working managing weapons contracts for the last few months. He also has his own suit, similar to mine, and he’s a damn good pilot,’ Tony says, winking at Rhodey, who rolls his eyes.

‘How do you want to balance between them and us?’ Bruce asks, playing with his empty tea mug; Tony can say he’s a bit nervous, even though he obviously trusts his teammates not to let the wrong kind of army people be around.

‘It’s not active duty anymore, just lots of paperwork and teleconferences. I moved back to New York, permanently, when I started the job,’ he adds, glancing at Tony.

They seem to get it.

‘So, we’ll have both an A.I. and an ex-army pilot being Iron Men for us,’ Peter concludes, sounding just a tad too happy. ‘Sweet.’

‘So you’re okay with all that?’ Tony asks once more, just to make sure; they do seem okay with it. Which is good. Maybe they think there can never be too many people saving the world at once.

‘Wait,’ Clint says, sounding as if he suddenly realized something, ‘that one time with the factories, when Iron Man was in three places in short period of time –’

‘I wasn’t even there. I was at home.’

‘I was the one to execute Sir’s exact plans,’ JARVIS speaks up, his voice soft in the big room, and the few people who haven’t met him yet frown at the new invisible voice. ‘Good to meet you all, Avengers.’

‘ _Fellow_ Avengers,’ Tony corrects, smirking slightly. ‘Everyone, my first and beloved personal A.I., JARVIS. Say hello.’

‘I believe I just did, but – hello,’ JARVIS says obediently, sounding just as sarcastic as ever. Natasha’s eyebrows go up at that.

‘Is he a copy of you?’

‘He’s his own person. But we’re best buddies for a reason,’ Tony explains and hovers over his mug, taking in the scent and ignoring Steve’s pointed look. He just isn’t sure this is a good moment for food, even the liquid kind. ‘So, we good?’

Now, this is a silly question. A very silly one as they have to have endless questions and they have to want to know all the answers – that’s an obvious reaction and well, he can see it in their eyes – but it’s also saying that he’d like to go. There’s a meeting at SI today that he has to attend, and he’s supposed to dress up and look pretty, apart from providing explanations about everything in the world. It’s going to be fun, but three interrogations in one day might be too much.

He knows Fury will come by, with Phil maybe, in the evening. It’s as obvious as the sun rising.

It’s Bruce who speaks up; unexpected, Tony has to admit.

‘Steve explained this to us, but I have to ask about that skin colorant. Did you really…?’

‘Easier than I would have thought,’ Tony laughs, ‘and when I really need something, it makes it easier,’ he adds, tapping the reactor.

‘It is strange to see you white. And this pale. I guess no holidays on a tropical for you, these past couple years?’ Peter asks, looking up from his snack.

‘Sadly, no,’ he admits. Rhodey’s staring at him, he can feel the burning of the gaze on his nape. ‘No California sun, either, but we could rectify that… So, we done?’

‘For now,’ Clint says, doing the _I watch you_ gesture. ‘ _You had me fooled_ ,’ he adds in signs, making Tony huff amusedly.

‘ _I said I don’t speak, I never said I couldn’t_ ,’ he replies. Clint blinks, realizing that Tony’s right about it, and lets his hands hover in the air before he adds something. ** _  
_**

‘ _You’re good_ ,’ he signs.

‘ _Genius_ ,’ Tony replies, returning the look, and stands up slowly. Better be on the safe side. ‘Okay, so I know there’s so much more you want to know and you should know and you deserve to know, but you need to forgive me, I’ve got a busy day, I’m sure you can all imagine, and I should get ready for some boring stuff to deal with. I’ll be back, to eat pizza and play poker or whatever you want to do, in a few days when this all dies down, you can have all you endless explanations. They have to be quite provisional for now. But I leave you Rhodey to play with so you won’t be bored,’ he adds, offering Rhodey a mischievous smirk. Steve stands up, too, and puts his hand on Tony’s shoulder; it makes Tony feel smaller – smaller but protected.

‘Go get the car,’ Steve tells him and Tony nods, waves at everyone and leaves the room, but Ijon tells his what Steve says: _it’s difficult for him_ , Steve tells the team.

He wants to be annoyed with those words but they are too true, and he’s not sure he has the energy for it.

They are also pretty sweet, so.

‘Ijon, car?’ he asks out loud, realizing what Steve told him when he’s almost by the door. He walked here all the way from home, even though Happy insisted on giving him a lift.

‘Steve got here in your sky blue Mercedes yesterday,’ Ijon supplies, sounding just a bit amused. Do all of the A.I.s know how Tony always teases Steve about choosing the least flashy car? Even if it makes sense.

‘Smooth ride,’ Tony had to agree though, he modified the car to be perfectly comfortable, even if boring.

They drive in silence, taking a way round, and Tony doesn’t say anything when Steve stops by Tony’s favorite Thai and gets him a takeout soup, easy to eat. He rests his legs on the console and sips the perfect soup, feeling his body accept the smooth warmth, and smiles at Steve.

Then he realizes they’re moving the wrong way.

‘Steve? Home?’

‘You have six hours until you have to be home,’ Steve says and drives on. ‘Play some music, would you?’

Tony frowns but decides to go with it because why not.

They end up by the ocean, just on the outskirts of the city, parking the car in the middle of a large concrete flatness. Steve takes the soup mug from Tony when he’s finished with the broth and eats the veg and meat from the bottom of it, using chopsticks with recently trained proficiency.

‘You know me too well,’ Tony laughs.

‘Doesn’t seem like a food day to me,’ Steve mumbles, his mouth full. He swallows and puts the box on the car mask. ‘Therefore I got something,’ he adds and disappears by the trunk. ‘Here you go,’ he hands Tony a mini tub of blueberry ice cream.

‘You took the picnic fridge with you just to force this ice cream into me?’ Tony asks, amused, accepting the tiny tub and a plastic spoon.

‘Blueberry,’ Steve just says, as if it explained everything, looking back into the mug in his hand.

The ice cream tastes like blueberry and salty wind from the ocean.

 

 

 

 


	2. II

Stark Industries is bittersweet.

Tony would have never thought he’d be the man to perceive things as _bittersweet_ – there just isn’t a better word to describe it. He might have been a bit of an asshole, rough on the edges, difficult to approach sometimes, but the people he worked with for years or decades know better than that. With the R &D, he’s never been anything other than another great mind and someone to lead. He’s missed it.

‘You have done great when I wasn’t present,’ he says to the small crowd gathered in one of the SI facilities on the outskirts of the town. There’s no media around, just a room full of his employees, so he doesn’t have to pretend.

They cheer, which makes him frown for a second, and then he lets himself smile widely.

It feels unreal to be back.

‘I’m sorry for having left you guys all to yourselves,’ he says and it’s magical how quiet they go in a split of a second. Refreshing, since they actually want to hear what he wants to say. ‘Thanks to Miss Potts, first and foremost, for picking up pieces I left scattered and putting them together into something _big_ ,’ he stresses the word, gesturing at Pepper who is standing in the corner of the room. All heads turn to her with a wave of applause so she gives them a little wave.

Pepper almost blushes, which is not an easy thing to achieve. Tony joins in.

‘Thanks to Tom, Paige, and William for running R&D when I was away and keeping you all guys on task,’ Tony continues with the names for at least fifteen minutes, making sure he mentions all department chiefs and everyone who’s achieved something exceptional during Tony’s absence, there were quite a few instances. His voice goes all rough before he gets to the end of the list he complied and memorized.

They seem genuinely happy to have him around; he hoped they would – it’s _Stark_ Industries, isn’t it? – but it feels great to actually experience this. All the unwelcoming people, there have to be some, there always are some, stay quiet.

‘Paige?’ he asks, seeing her give him a quick hand sign that they’ve been using for ages, ‘want to come up?’

‘No, boss,’ she says, her low voice rolling though the room, ‘we’re just all wondering about what Virginia said about you coming back.’

‘I will be coming back for some time,’ Tony says and clears his throat. ‘This was not verbalized in public, exactly… So you do all know I’m not well. I have cancer, which is terminal, and I hope none of you start trying to find a cure all of sudden,’ he adds, making them laugh lightly. ‘I’m supposed to have a few months left but there’s no telling how things will go, so I might stick around poking you for a few weeks or a couple months. The idea is, we talk and brainstorm and I tell you everything I want you to know – don’t think I haven’t been keeping tabs on the work you’ve all been doing. I have, as you might have noticed when I was saying my _thank yous_. Our first and biggest thing right now is making sure we get the reactor tech to the next level. You’ve all seen the big and useless baby we have in L.A. but you also must have seen the Tower yesterday or today. That’s the biggest challenge for SI right now, whether you are directly involved or not. I will make sure to have my eyes on everything, though, not just the big score.’

Some of them nod, all of the eyes focused on Tony, and it makes him smirk; he’s always loved crowds. Especially charmed crowds. That’s very Stark of him, he realizes, and lets himself enjoy it all the same.

‘I’ll try my best to give you all the answers you want or need in the coming weeks,’ he says, giving Pepper a slightest nod, and finishes, ‘it’s good to be home.’

The crowds stands up and gives him an applause that gets ridiculous three minutes in, and Pepper comes onto the stage when they hit five, seeing that Tony is just as confused as he is flattered.

‘That will be enough, ladies and gentleman,’ she tells them, the room going silent straight away. ‘I’m afraid I need to borrow Mister Stark for the rest of the afternoon. You can have him tomorrow.’

‘Peace,’ Tony says to the microphone, winking at no one in particular, and lets Pepper grab his arm and lead him out of the room in small steps.

‘You all right?’

‘The noise is ringing in my head, but apart from that, I’m good, I guess?’

‘You guess?’

‘I’m not an emotional kind of guy,’ he tells her, looking over her shoulder. ‘But even I have to admit, being back is… something else.’

‘You’ll miss anonymity soon enough,’ Pepper chuckles, handing him a glass of water. Tony smiles thankfully.

‘I do miss it already,’ he says once he’s drowned all the water, his throat feeling much better. ‘I mean, I kind figured I’d miss it before this whole coming out, I was sure I’d miss walking down the streets and no one giving me look or chasing me or taking photos of me, you know. Just wandering around and no one minding me. It’s gonna be tough now, unless I craft some fancy disguise that will be effective enough while not being itchy and not giving me a rash.’

‘Oh, the poor you,’ she says, sounding remotely cruel in her lack of understanding, Tony thinks. ‘It’s half past five. What do you want to do?’

‘You have the rest of the afternoon off?’

‘Yes –’

‘How about we get dinner, Miss Potts?’

‘Wouldn’t your boyfriend be jealous, Mister Stark?’ she plays along, raising an eyebrow.

‘He’ll have me for the night,’ Tony smiles. Pepper rolls her eyes. ‘Besides, I know you wouldn’t object to dinner of olives and bread and sorbets afterwards. He would.’

‘Fair point, Mister Stark,’ she agrees, understanding flashing in her eyes. ‘It still sounds like you’re trying to avoid him,’ she adds when they’re getting into the car; Happy just gives him the all-knowing look. To his credit, he mostly is all-knowing.

Tony doesn’t comment on that.

‘Lido, Happy,’ he says simply, sprawling across the back seat of the limo.

‘Uh-oh,’ Happy mutters, starting the engine.

 

                           

Day two of the fun, Tony wakes up with Steve wrapped around him. It’s just past sunrise and Steve is sleeping. Tony tries to keep his eyes open but he figures he’s still too sleepy and lets himself drift back into the strange dreams.

When he wakes up again it’s two past nine and he’s in the room with Happy, who is drinking coffee and doing crosswords from today’s New York Times.

‘Classy,’ Tony tells him, sitting up in the bed.

‘Feel like being live on TV tonight?’ Happy asks in reply, not looking up from his paper. Tony blinks, registers that it’s pouring rain outside, and finds out the answers. ‘We’ve had phone calls.’

‘No.’

‘Ever?’

‘Surely. When I feel like kicking some asses, not like having my ass kicked.’

‘Your meds are at the side table,’ Happy says offhandedly, turning the page.

‘I know, they always are,’ Tony mutters, reaching out for them and the accompanying glass of water. ‘They’re always there.’

‘About things that always are, boss – I was wondering when we’ll be moving. Are we moving? I had the impression you’d want to, now that the tower’s ready.’

‘Steve asked me the same,’ Tony confesses, sitting down on the edge of the bed. ‘He asked if I wanted to move in with the team, or move there and have the team move with us…’

‘That’s cute.’

‘Yeah, he wants to make me feel like I’ll still be a part of it, even now that I’ve officially said goodbye in front of the whole world. The thing is, I don’t think I want that,’ he pauses, the words lingering in the air. ‘That’s something we talked about during the palliative care meeting: making sure I am, both physically and mentally, comfortable. The doctor was very straightforward and I liked it,’ Tony muses, feeling Happy’s eyes on him now. He’s never said anything about that meeting to anyone.

‘And the team?’

‘J, can you quote what she said for me? You know which part.’

‘Of course, sir,’ JARVIS’ soft voice replies, and he recites, ‘There is no dignity to dying and believing what the movies and book and heartwarming confessions say isn’t a good idea. When you are at peace with dying, it might be calm and simple, but it’s not _dignified_. You’ll be lucky if you die before the tumor spreads to your brain, making you barely more than a vegetable, or making you forget what all your life has been. Your body fails and it’s humiliating and it brings on embarrassing situations when you have to be treated like a baby because you can’t control yourself anymore, and there’s no dignity to it.’

‘That’s what the doctor said,’ Happy wonders aloud, ‘Not very uplifting.’

Tony nods.

‘I’ve thought about that before. I mean –’

‘I get it.’

‘I don’t want them to be around all the time. We’ll just move to the Tower, like planned.’

‘I get it, boss,’ Happy repeats, standing up. ‘So, if you don’t feel like live TV, how about breakfast before you run to work?’

‘I – I couldn’t eat anything,’ Tony says, wrapping his arms around his abdomen protectively, as if the pressure helped somehow. ‘I won’t say no to a magical drink though, before I head to R&D, and then…’

‘Boss?’

‘Nothing,’ Tony shakes his head. Of course Happy doesn’t believe him, narrowing his eyes at Tony before leaving the room. ‘Nothing,’ Tony whispers to himself and stands up, too, heading for the bathroom.

 

 

They work on arc reactor tech, with a hand-picked group of scientists. And Peter. He and Tony had a quick chat before they entered SI plant.

‘I can’t believe you’re letting me do this,’ Peter said, gesturing at the buildings in front of them, ‘as if there weren’t any better people.’

‘I’m trusting you with this so do not let me down,’ Tony replied, patting Peter’s back and the pushing him towards the gate.

They are enthusiastic and soaking the knowledge like a sponge, asking questions, staring at the diagrams, staring at Tony’s chest when he shows them the miniaturized reactor and tells them that’s what they want to make use of as power source in some of the future projects. They are giving him _looks_ too, in between moments of utter concentration. They are too many – seventeen – and too loud even when they’re whispering. Tony finds it surprising how disjointed he feels within the group, it’s so easy to differentiate between _them_ and himself.

The endless morning is more tiring than Tony expected so by the time he arrived to the clinic, he’s exhausted. There’s half an hour before his appointment so he sits in the cafeteria, looking mostly like Nate, and observes the never-changing hospital life from his strategic spot, nibbling on the salad he bought.

Just a checkup, Levy said, but they both know that at this stage of the illness it’s more likely than not to be unpleasantly surprised.

‘Here,’ she shows him a spot on the CT scan a few hours later. ‘We can follow the same procedure we did last time. You’re lucky, mets to liver are the easiest to treat, in a case like yours. Can you come in tomorrow?’

‘For you, sure I can,’ Tony bats his eyelashes at Levy, making her snicker with amusement. ‘A couple days?’

‘I’d say so.’

‘Sounds good. I’ll clear my schedule.’

‘I’ll see you in the morning then,’ she says, gesturing at him to go. He nods and leaves, he’s been hiding in her office for the last couple hours. Everyone outside just _stared_ even if no one was brave enough to approach him.

He takes the long way out, passing through radiology, his former second home, and at least there, they don’t stare. They just look with too much concern, knowing exactly what this place is like. Someone he probably knows waves at him, Tony waves back, but they don’t engage him in a conversation for which he’s grateful.

Back at home – Steve’s at S.H.I.E.L.D. and Happy is who knows where – he spends the evening packing the essential kit and listening to too loud music, cancelling out the heavy rain buzzing outside.

‘I’m going to hospital,’ he announces when Steve comes home. ‘Like the other time, you know, we’ll do the ablation procedure, quick and easy –’

‘Hey,’ Steve cuts in, wrapping his arm around Tony and bringing him closer. ‘Okay. It’s okay. It’s the best of the bad things, right?’ he says, voice soft, but Tony can tell something’s not right. ‘It’ll be painless. I remember. Lucky, right?’

‘What is it?’

‘Sorry?’

‘You’re thinking about something. Something else,’ Tony points out, raising an eyebrow and crossing his arms, knowing that putting on an act will ease the atmosphere a little bit.

‘… Fury wants me overseas for a couple of weeks,’ Steve admits with  sigh. ‘And I don’t feel like leaving you alone.’

‘I have other people, you know –’

‘Pepper’s in Japan, James is in L.A., and you said yourself you don’t want to involve Happy with this _all the time_ , didn’t you? That he deserves a break.’

‘There’s Doc –’

‘Who you also said you don’t –’

‘And I don’t really need someone with me all the time, anyway, I’ll be fine by myself.’

Steve, of course, gives him _the look_.

‘Been sick enough to know no one wants to wake up to an empty room,’ he said simply, as if daring Tony to say he doesn’t care but that would be a lie. He has enough humility to admit that he’d like to have someone there, just damn breathing next to him, assuring him that’s he’s still in the real world. And, if there’s any bad news… he did it once and it really works better with someone else. Basic human 101.

Then he remembers a conversation from a few weeks before and smiles.

‘You know, I have a solution to this. I’ll have Thor come over. He offered to carry me around if I need some time ago and I might as well take his offer.’

‘If he carries you in his arms, your secret clinic or not, the photo will be on the internet in a minute.’

‘Might risk it,’ Tony smiles, glad that Steve’s mood is a little less gloomy. ‘J, please tell Thor about this, ok? And let me know his reply.’

‘Will do, sir.’

‘And you, soldier, tell me more about your new save-the-world thing.’

Tony falls asleep a few minutes into the story, cuddled up to Steve on the sofa, to the muffled sounds of the city and Steve’s monotone voice as a lullaby.

 

 

Waking up from the surgery feels like a movie, when a screen gets blacked out and springs back to life with a new day after a flicker.

Tony blinks away the heaviness to his eyelids, assessing the various sensations to his body, and notices the people sitting in the corner of the room only after a while. There are three and he’s pretty sure he only invited one of them, the big and blond.

‘Everything went well,’ he recognizes Levy’s voice. ‘Let me check up on you and I’ll leave you to your friends.’

Tony nods, still a bit too groggy to think rationally, and answers all the questions in mutters. When Levy’s done with him, she leaves the room and Tony makes a proper effort to focus on his _friends_.

‘I texted Steve everything went fine,’ Natasha says, shifting in her chair.

‘I thought you were away these days?’

‘Came back last night.’

‘Natasha contacted me and asked to share a conversation. I saw no wrong in inviting her to join us. I hope you have no qualms against her presence, Tony.’

‘I guess not,’ Tony agrees, lifting himself up a little bit in the bed – one movement of your finger thanks to new medical appliances engineering – and asks, ‘did you enjoy the show yesterday?’

‘Midgardian medics are very fine craftsmen indeed,’ Thor declares, nodding solemnly. They had a conversation about doctors and surgery techniques previous morning; Thor seemed very interested in the rather unknown to him subject so Tony had JARVIS transmit his operation to Thor’s phone.

‘We only do what we have to do without magic,’ Tony teases, gaining an amused smile from Thor. ‘That was a delicate job but you should see some brain surgeries to really get how amazing that it, I mean, there is barely anything more delicate than that in the world. One wrong movement and you’ve done it. They have robots doing that sometimes, but nothing is like human intuition, and note me saying that,’ he continues, not caring at all that’s he’s rambling. Thor seems invested and Natasha… He doesn’t really know what the deal between her and Tony Stark is. A few years ago she studied him and she knows he knows about it, so she seems reluctant while being as self-assured as always, and Tony himself is not sure how that works.

So he ignores her just a little bit; he can excuse it with being sleepy and sore because he knows she _is_ compassionate. He’s done his secret research, too.

‘I promised you to explain that machine I built,’ he says, gesturing at Thor to come over and sit by his bed. ‘JARVIS, pull up the specs,’ he adds, flicking his tablet cover open.

Natasha stays in the corner, typing something relentlessly on her phone, knees up and drawn to her chest, and Tony talks until his throat’s sore; Thor being Thor offers to go down and get Tony some juice, apparently having decided that water isn’t adequate. Tony gets the hint but pretends not to.

But he’s surprised when she comes across the room silently and climbs onto his bed and wraps her arms around him.

‘I’m sorry,’ she whispers into his ear.

‘It’s okay,’ he whispers back, not really knowing what he should do. It’s comfortable and comforting and he doesn’t know enough about casual half-stranger interaction, so he lets her do what she wants. It takes her a few minutes to let go of him but she stays on the edge of the bed, just by his legs.

‘I know we’re not really friends,’ she says finally, brushing a lone hair strand out of her face. ‘And I know I’ve been reluctant towards _Nate_ – you did a great job there, I was satisfied enough with finding out that connection that I didn’t look any further, which was probably your very point – but I didn’t know for sure if I could trust _him_. You know my story. I’ve got some trust issues and there was something off about Nate, if you looked closer.’

‘And you looked closer.’

‘Especially when you started that thing with Steve.’

‘You’re very possessive about your friends,’ Tony notes, keeping his eyes open to see her reaction. A flicker of uncertainty passes through her face but then she nods and Tony lets his eyes relax for a moment.

‘They are scarce and rather precious.’

‘Got that,’ Tony chuckles, ‘I have my own group of misfits.’

‘About that –’ she starts, but Tony doesn’t let her finish. It’s probably not the best time, him being groggy and achy and feeling like sleeping for the next month at least, but he wants to ask her.

‘Were you or Happy ever going to verbalize it to me?’

She narrows her eyes, stares at him for a moment, and says, ‘I told him to just talk with you.’

‘And you knew he didn’t.’

‘Yes.’

‘Well,’ Tony sighs, letting himself lay back on the bed, ready to sleep for the next fourteen hours or so, ‘you better take care of him. It’ll be a drastic separation and he’ll need it. Pinky swear?’

‘Pinky swear,’ she replies amusedly and slides down the side of the bed, her flats hitting the floor with a soft sound, and she walks over to her chair and will stand guard, Tony guesses, until Thor comes back, but he’s deep asleep by then.

 

 

Tony wakes up at night a few times that he can remember, feeling hurt and nauseous, and there are people rushing around in the room. He doesn’t recall saying anything but when he wakes up, a nurse sitting in Natasha’s chair tells him he’s _sweet._

‘There was some inflammation, nothing unusual, you’ve got antibiotics dripping down that IV,’ she adds, pointing vaguely at the line going into his right arm. Oh. That’s new. There is another one in his left, he stares at it for a few seconds and raises an eyebrow at her.

‘That’s just your breakfast,’ she laughs lightly, writing something in her folder and closing it with a thud. ‘You won’t be eating for a few days on these medicine, I don’t think so, too much history of nausea, and you’ve already lost too much weight. Your body will be very happy with some glucose.’

‘Can I still go home tomorrow?’

‘If the inflammation gets better, the day after tomorrow. But you’ll have a few magic food bags to go through.’

He nods, twisting the plastic line in his strange feeling fingers, enjoying her ability to say things without actually verbalizing them. Observing her leave the room, he wonders if someone taught the nurse that way of talking or if it’s just her. It’s nice to feel he’s staying home because of _food_ , not because of feeling bad, even if everyone knows it’s a cheap trick.

Just a moment after she’s disappeared in the hallway, Natasha peeks inside the room; Tony’s eyes are closed and he only knows it thank to JARVIS. Thinking he’s asleep or resting, Tony guesses, she takes a step back to close the door.

‘Come in,’ he says, his voice weaker than he’s like. ‘I’m not sleeping or anything, and I’ve got a few things to tell you. But do close the door.’

She does as she’s told and then sits on the edge of Tony’s bed, directly in the soft autumn sunlight. She looks tired, unlike the Black Widow most would expect to see; her hair is up in a messy bun and she’s wearing old jeans and a t-shirt matching her eye color.

‘I know I mentioned it yesterday but I didn’t really finish the thought,’ he starts, letting his hands play with his phone in calm repetitive motions. ‘If you and Happy – if he’s – you know him a bit, don’t you? He likes to pretend. Learned that from the best, I tell him, but he was already good when I adopted him like a damn stray dog. He won’t admit it, of course,’ Tony chuckles and Natasha allows a small smile onto her red lips. ‘He’s worked for me for over fifteen years.’

‘Fifteen? But –’

‘We had a complicated start. But yeah, fifteen years. I told him about my cancer, not anyone else. He’s been in my game since before it even started. He’s had, for a long time, nothing but his work. Which is me, I am his work, so no matter how crappy and romantic that sounds, I was his everything. Sure, he has some friends, but you know how _friends_ are, it’s the kind he’s meet with for lunch or for a drink and come back home wishing he didn’t. So. I’m glad he’s found something else because I have no fucking idea what he’d do otherwise.’

‘Pepper would take him from you.’

‘She would, but what he needs it something that steals a hundred percent of his time, and Pepper isn’t that. You should be.’

Natasha stares.

‘I know you’ll go away and save the world and all, but still, it’s a different kind of an… engagement. To substitute me. _Love_ , you know, if something more and something full-time, and most humans don’t have the capacity to be non-romantically full-time. Am I even making sense?’

‘Kind of,’ she smirks and Tony gives her a hurt look.

‘There aren’t many people in the world that can keep you as entertained as I can. There. And it becomes a habit. Happy will need a new habit when I’m gone, and don’t let him take up banjo, he’s terrible at music, no matter what he says. And don’t let him eat away his boredom, he’s already put on like a ten pounds in the last few months.’

‘You’re a cruel man, Tony Stark,’ Natasha decides gloomily, but her eyes are contradicting her voice. Come to think of it, Tony’s never seen her look so… glowing. Tired but happy. ‘He can take up all the instruments he wants to. I believe in freedom in a relationship.’

‘You’ll change your mind,’ Tony mutters and Natasha just laughs lightly, sunrays flickering golden in her hair, just like in Pepper’s.

He misses Pepper. She left like five days ago for her trip and he just misses her.

‘So, miss superhero, you’ll have a lot of leftover responsibility after I die,’ he continues, ‘because you’ve got to look out for Steve, too. He claims you’re his best friend, how that came to pass, I have no idea, but if he insists… So you got them both. I hope you realize. I expect them to be taken care of.’

‘Of course,’ she nods curtly. ‘You have my word.’

‘I hope it means something,’ he replies; it’s a bit cruel but not undeserved; they both know perfectly well what Agent Romanoff is capable of, and how difficult it is to sometimes ignore that one part of your personality.

‘I wouldn’t swear to a dying guy. I hear it’s bad for your moral integrity –’

‘As if you had morals,’ Tony comments with amusement and lets himself close his eyes. The sun is beautiful, but he’s more tired. ‘I’ll sleep now. See you later?’

‘You won’t get rid of me that easily,’ she threatens, waving a book at him that came out of nowhere.

 

 

Tony’s released home two days later and he’s just managed to take his shoes off when someone barges in and sweeps him off the floor.

‘It’s been only five days, you possessive freak,’ Tony mutters into Steve’s neck affectionately, surprised by how comfortable he is in this weird position in Steve’s arms, being held almost bridal style. Of course, Steve being considerate of his sore side.

‘Extremely boring five days for me, genius. You can tell, I’m home early,’ Steve says back, putting Tony back on the floor and placing his duffle by Tony’s shoes. ‘I don’t like being the ambassador of peace. Much prefer action. Do it and be done with it.’

‘How many cartoons did you draw during those meetings?’

‘… a few,’ Steve admits, pretending to look innocent.

‘Also, be careful of what you say. Someone might think you’re being swayed to the dark side.’

‘They have cookies.’

‘Oh, you’re getting better, Mister Clueless,’ he adds, and then shouts, ‘Happy!’

‘I’ve got a sensitive hearing,’ Steve mutters, taking his shoes off; Tony ignores him boldly.

‘Don’t pretend you can’t hear me! I’ve got something for you!’

Now it’s just a second before Happy sneaks out of his room, looking as impeccable as always, a pen stuck behind his ear. He stops a few steps into the living room, assesses the situation, and glares at Tony expectantly.

‘Natasha says hi,’ Tony simply states, raising an eyebrow and stopping himself from grimacing at that damn soreness in his abdomen that’s more than the pull of the few stiches he got. Painkillers time it is.

‘I hate you,’ Happy states cheerfully and disappears back into his room.

‘Please tell me you knew,’ Tony says flatly, and Steve nods in confirmation. “Good. Okay. I’m gonna be busy for the rest of the afternoon – don’t make that face. I have things to do. Important things, like, finishing some of the specs I promised to work on with my people in Stark Industries and we’re on a quite tight schedule these days.’

‘I know, I know,’ Steve sighs and gives Tony a kiss on the forehead. ‘Go on, then. I’ll unpack your things and then go to HQ, if you need me. Don’t tire yourself out too much.’

‘Too much, ha. And leave my things alone,’ Tony grins and almost turns around to go, but he changes his mind and gives kiss a proper kiss that lasts enough to leave him breathless and almost dizzy. ‘Go, now.’

Steve rolls his eyes but obediently walks towards the door.

Tony ends up working for a few hours, completing most of the things he wanted to get done with, but when Steve comes back, he’s dozing off on the workshop’s sofa, with soft music playing in the room. He wakes up to the sound of the doors being open and suddenly becomes aware of the song playing: You must be the DJ today, he’s the only one with fine appreciation of 70s classics, the other bots prefer the following decades.

He can feel his eyes getting wet at the thoughts and rolls on his side, away from Steve, to blink them dry. That’s stupid, caring so much for a random thing like that. But there’s no one in the world who knows these things. That’ll make the bots even sadder when he’s gone. He probably should have JARVIS start a robot depression prevention program.

JARVIS says something Tony can’t really hear and a moment later the soft noise of the doors being closed echoes in the room, but there are no footsteps following.

‘I asked Captain to give you a few moments, sir,’ the A.I. says in the softest voice. ‘I was hoping you’d appreciate the thought.’

‘Take care of the bots for me, J,’ Tony just mutters in response, trembling with half sobs, half laughter at his own ridiculous ideas. ‘Okay? I know you’ll be around whenever you’re needed, Iron Man and not, and I’m not donating you to anyone’s care ‘cause you’re a big boy, and even though I trust Rhodey with them, please tell me you’re gonna take care of the babies. Are you gonna take care of them?’

‘Of course,’ JARVIS vows, ‘to the best of my ability.’

‘Good for me,’ Tony agrees, closing his eyes and wiping his eyes with the bad of his hands, like a kid. He doesn’t care though. ‘C’mere,’ he adds, turning back to face the openness of the room; the daylight is almost blinding.

The bots cuddle their arms up to Tony and stay there with him, unmoving, until he’s ready to take a few deep breaths and stand up.

Of course, standing up after such a long time sitting curled up isn’t a good idea, his legs are asleep and he almost falls down as soon as he puts his weight on them, but the bots catch him and make some concerned-annoyed beeps.

‘I know, silly me,’ he laughs lightly, petting them, ‘’m just human, should consider it next time, right? JARVIS. Ask Rhodey if we can meet tomorrow? Or no. Tell him I need to see him tomorrow. Don’t ask.’

‘Of course I will not, sir. And I will deliver your message. Anything else?’

‘Get my coffee started. If you try to tell me I shouldn’t drink coffee, I’ll mute you.’

‘Caffeine works as a stimulant. Your body might benefit from it,’ JARVIS says in a perfectly sweet voice.

‘Sucking up won’t help you, sweetheart,’ Tony says, standing up for the second time, this time with a much better result, and makes his way to the kitchen.

 

 

The next few days aren’t good. Tony is familiar enough with _bad spells_ by now; he made sure JARVIS checked him for internal bleeding and the like, improbable but just in case. It’s nothing more than the usual though.

‘Rest,’ Doc tells him on Sunday morning. It’s almost the end of September, the sun laying low and peeking from behind the clouds shyly. The last thing Tony wants to do is rest, he wants to go out and walk walk _walk_ endlessly, take advantage of the warm air outside, let the sunrays soak through his pale skin. Soon, autumn weather will take the Indian summer’s place and none of this will be possible.

There is no saying if he’ll see the warm days again, early windy spring.

‘I will,’ he swears because he’s genuinely too exhausted and dizzy to walk around.

Rhodey and Pepper come by in early afternoon and stay with Tony and Steve in the bedroom, talking, sharing dinner, and playing JARVIS-made holographic board games. It’s a far cry from Las Vegas but Tony decides it can do.

He can’t swallow any proper food so Steve makes him a lovely shake which fills his stomach pleasantly and gives him a bit more energy.

When the evening comes, everyone goes back to their own homes to enjoy the last hours of Sunday laziness. Happy comes back from his date and goes straight to his room, having J say hello for him, and Steve’s on his evening run.

The house is too silent.

‘JARVIS,’ Tony says, getting up from bed, the blanket wrapped around his bare chest protectively. His legs are shaking much less than expected, honestly.

‘Sir?’

‘I want to fly.’

‘You are not well.’

‘I want to fly,’ Tony repeats, staring wide-eyed at the sea of city lights. ‘I want to fly, okay?’

‘As you wish,’ J replies. It takes him two minutes to have one of the Marks sneak into the bedroom almost soundlessly. ‘Full autopilot.’

‘I wouldn’t dream of anything else,’ Tony smiles, feeling the armor’s delicate frame wrapping around his body. He hasn’t done this just in a few days. It feels like ages. ‘Take me home,’ he says almost inaudibly. JARVIS picks it up, of course, and gets it.

When they’re back, Tony’s lungs full of the fresh evening air, dizzy with excitement, he almost collapses when the armor is not supporting him anymore; he lies down on the bed, feeling soft vibrations not unlike almost-passing out all over his body, and falls asleep just like that, in his day clothes and shoes.

 

 

Steve wakes him up with kisses.

Tony can tell Steve was crying and he feels guilty. It’s really easy to push the feeling away though so he does.

‘Work today?’ he asks, handing Tony his morning medicine.

‘Work every day,’ Tony replies, taking the pills and pretending not to notice that there are more supplements than usually; he’s had the talk with Levy, too. He dry-swallows the meds, making Steve frown and sigh disapprovingly, pointing at the water bottle right on the nightstand. It washes out the powdery feeling at the back of Tony’s throat easily.

‘I’m training some probies today. You do your work and I’ll see you in the evening, okay?’

‘Okay.’

‘Good day,’ Steve winks at him and makes a perfect salute before walking out.

Tony salutes back. Steve doesn’t see it; it doesn’t matter anyway.

When he’s feeling human enough to get out of the bed, he puts in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, shaves himself clean, and emerges his quarters to see Happy reading today’s newspaper.

‘ _Billionaire disappears after his confession_ ,’ Happy reads out loud, raising one eyebrow, and looks up at Tony. ‘Considered the press yet?’

‘Nah.’

‘Thanks. Keep my life amusing,’ Happy decides, looking back at the paper.

Tony doesn’t reply and doesn’t really move, arms wrapped around his stomach protectively – he’s been doing that too much, he’s perfectly aware – and it take Happy only a moment to close his newspaper with a loud rustle, roll it, and put it securely in his jacket’s big pocket.

‘Yeah?’

‘Could we go driving today?’

‘You don’t have to ask, boss. Now?’

‘I want to be outside. The weather’s nice. New York looks inviting. I don’t think I could drive or walk for long enough,’ Tony explains even though he doesn’t have to.

‘It’ll do you good to get some fresh air,’ Happy agrees lightly. ‘But, breakfast first?’

‘Could drink something.’

‘I made strawberry pudding yesterday, you know, but you didn’t eat it. Ungrateful. So I made some weird icebox cake, can’t go wrong with strawberries and crackers, it’s delicious. Safe foods put together into a cake. _Breakfast_ _cake_.’

‘You’re ingenious,’ Tony agrees, thinking that he might actually eat some almost-solid food today. Sounds like a plan.

 

 

They drive for over eight hours; it’s only afternoon when they are back though. First round of meds is at six in the morning, it was barely seven when they left and got stuck in Manhattan traffic. The sun is still high and warm.

Tony’s had enough of it during the drive, sitting in passengers chair with his legs up on the cockpit, enjoying the sunrays, the feeling of the air swirling around his limbs, all of the windows half-open, and the constant buzz of traffic in his ears. They didn’t even exchange a word, apart from Happy asking _chicken noodle or something creamy_ when they stopped for lunch.

Back in the house, content with the movement he spent part of the night and the day within, Tony gets to the kitchen island and calls Happy to come over.

‘We’re making a chocolate cake. With chocolate icing,’ he states; they both know he means _mostly you but I’ll hang around_.

‘Ehm… why, boss?’

‘I’ve always wanted to eat a whole chocolate cake,’ Tony declares, taking the groceries he had JARVIS order out of the bag and placing them on the counter. ‘And I need to hurry up.’

‘You’re gonna throw up if you eat a whole chocolate cake,’ Happy notes but takes the butter out of the fridge without being asked and right now Tony loves him for that so much.

‘Well, I’m gonna throw up anyway so I prefer it’d be because of a chocolate cake,’ Tony explains and there’s a moment of silence before Happy clears his throat loudly and gives Tony a resigned look. ‘You in?’

‘As long as I get my own chocolate cake to eat.’

‘Deal,’ Tony agrees and they go on working.

He eats the whole cake – doesn’t matter that it’s a small one, it’s still a whole one – and throws it up half an hour later without any regrets, and retreats to the ‘shop for the rest of the evening to work slash play with JARVIS.

Happy shares his cake with Natasha who comes over for the first time ever. Tony decides it’s sweet and very romantic and doesn’t give it a second thought, focusing on the body armor specs for S.H.I.E.L.D. he wants Peter to have a look at tomorrow.

 

 

‘I couldn’t sleep for the last few days,’ Peter tells him when they’re in the big workshop, several half-transparent holograms hanging in the air around them as they inspect every detail with attention. Undivided until now, Tony thinks amusedly, and nods at Peter to continue. ‘I was thinking.’

‘I figured.’

‘I mean, you said you’ve known for so long…’ he says reluctantly; Tony nods at him again. ‘How do you deal with it? Knowing for _ages_ and not being able to do anything? I think I’d rather die quickly. You know. Otherwise I think I’d just go insane – how come you haven’t gone insane?’

‘Who says I haven’t?’ Tony laughs, gesturing at JARVIS to rotate the female armor III, looks Peter in the eye and declares solemnly, ‘I pray. I meditate. I eat chocolate. I go dancing.’

Peter’s face is _priceless_.

‘Erm… I wouldn’t take you for –’

‘Sir has been watching too many movies of mediocre quality,’ J comments drily but Tony knew if he could, he’s blink at him mischievously.

‘Hey, I do eat chocolate,’ Tony protests, frowning at JARVIS’ camera, thinking about the chocolaterie he’s been to so many times with various people, and the cake, of course. ‘And I should go dancing. Haven’t been dancing for too long… But seriously? Seriously. I spend too much time talking to myself, I do Good Things, and I’m heartened by the fact that my awesomeness will be immortal within my sassy babies.’

‘Why thank you.’

‘You see, sassy as hell.’

‘Tell me about it,’ Peter sighs theatrically, ‘I’ve had enough to do with Ijon in my life. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I like him, but’s he’s a double-faced bastard. He’ll call you by your name in this sweet voice, but if you annoy him, he’ll keep playing music you hate or tell you disturbing jokes that make you choke on your food when you’re alone in the house so that no one can help you if you can’t breathe –’

‘Good boy,’ Tony laughs, ignoring Peter’s glare. ‘And don’t lie, Peter. Kids shouldn’t lie, Ijon is very sweet.’

‘… he still tells disturbing jokes.’

‘Only because he knows you like them.’

Peter pouts.

‘Okay, stop this now, I’m actually trying to teach you something while we consult on this, and I don’t have endless time.’

‘Let’s finish this,’ Peter agrees quickly, blowing up specs of the waterproof seams, and they easily get lost in work.

 

 

There actually is a date with Steve later, not that Steve knew about it.

‘I feel good today,’ Tony tells him when they meet in the bedroom, Tony just having finished his shower and Steve undressing to take one. ‘Let’s go out.’

‘Out?’

‘I was talking to Peter today and I was enlightened. We should go dancing!’

‘Stop with that high voice, please,’ Steve mutters resignedly, making Tony chuckle. ‘You do look better today, but it’s been only a few days since your surgery, are you sure it’s a good idea?’

‘It was a laparoscopic procedure, minimally invasive. And I stayed in hospital for longer than I was supposed to so they made sure I’m all in one piece, therefore, _yes_. And I feel good.’

‘You know it’ll likely end up in papers and on the internet?’

‘I’ll have JARVIS change all the headlines for _The Dying Superhero Spotted Dancing With Fellow Avenger_ , three exclamation marks at the end, you know? Wait wait, do you even know how to dance?’

‘I know how to dance.’

‘What, swing? What else was around in the ancient times?’

‘Ha ha,’ Steve says drily, looking up at the ceiling as if he was searching for some half-divine escape from the madness. ‘I spent a lot of time in HQ before I moved here, you know. With people. They taught me things, too.’

‘Should I be jealous?’

‘It was some time ago, but I guess you can if you want,’ Steve teases, grabbing his towel from the bed frame and tossing it over his shoulder, and then added, with a much quieter voice, ‘… do I have to wear tight clothes? Is it that kind of a dance place?’

Tony blinks, staring at Steve’s almost-terrified expression, and he can’t help himself: he bursts out laughing. Just imagining Steve in one of the _tight clothes_ places is priceless.

Steve has his trademark forehead frown and doesn’t seem like he appreciates Tony’s reaction.

‘Sorry,’ Tony manages, trying to catch a breath, the damn thing in his chest not helping at all. ‘Yes, thanks for the suggestion, we should definitely go to one of those places, I don’t miss them much but they are _fun_ , if you know what I mean,’ he winks at Steve who is standing frozen in the middle of the room. ‘But no. Honestly, it’s an entirely different kind of place. Promise me you won’t laugh.’

‘I’m not the one who laughs at people,’ Steve comments, sounding somehow hurt, but Tony knows it’s a game.

‘You know, I haven’t been acting as Nate, unless remotely and via JARIVS, for several weeks now –’

‘And you miss it.’

‘Nate has – had, whichever – some friends. I know I said I wouldn’t connect those two anyhow, but maybe that was a premature promise. I kind of want to go to places, see people, I don’t know how they’d react to me being Stark though –’

‘If they care, they’re not worth it.’

‘You and your ideals,’ Tony sighs, Steve’s world is always so much more perfect and pleasant than Tony’s, and less vicious. ‘There are some people who I don’t think would care, though,’ he admits, thinking about the blue hand-drawn card he found in his main a few days ago. ‘There’s this party, then. I was invited, well, Nate was, as a guest of honor, even though I told them I won’t be around, they still cared to send me an actual card. I think the average age of the participants is well below legal.’

‘Tony!’ Steve pretends to be annoyed, but he knows what Tony’s on straight away. ‘Riverside.’

‘Yeah, Riverside. Those annoying creatures, they’re having a _Welcome Autumn_ ball, or something along those lines.’

‘Tonight?’

‘Tonight.’

‘… as long as I don’t have to wear tight clothes,’ Steve says and disappears in the bathroom, leaving Tony smiling and still dripping water all over the carpet. ‘How are you going to explain them you’re the same person?’ Steve calls from the bathroom but Tony doesn’t reply.

 

 

It’s easy: Tony wears all of Nate’s _disguise_ , only leaving his hair alone. He’s been enjoying having normal hair too much to let it go, the goatee he shaved off already, too much bother to keep in nice shape. And it made kissing Steve less pleasurable but that’s just a secondary reason.

Also, he doesn’t speak when he and Steve enter the building. The adults know already – Tony sent them a brief message and had JARVIS reply to there _are you for real_ wonders, assuring them yes, he is for real, and they know from the news why he’d hide himself from public.

It’s Steve’s first time in the place and Tony can tell he’s a little stunned by how crazy the kids are. They’re probably on sugar rush, honestly, or the excitement of the upcoming fun is giving them a power boost.

Or maybe they missed him. That’d make sense: as soon as they enter the common room, having exchanged a few quick words with Annik, he’s swarmed by little bodies that could easily make him fall, but they are considerate enough.

There’s a wave of hands signing _hello_ and _how are you_ and he signs back, their eyes lighting up in understanding.

‘ _Let’s see your act, now_ ,’ he types on the tablet and lets the kid see it and read to each other in hushed voices. ‘ _Audience is waiting_.’

There were maybe a dozen people and some of the kids sitting on the floor in front of the provisional scene; Nate had a chance to meet most of them before, the kids’ teachers, some social workers, and a few people who work in and out of Riverside.

‘Why not tell them already?’ Steve whispers when they sit down, cross-legged, at the back of the room, a moment later the lights turn dim.

‘They are kids. They’d be too distracted,’ Tony replies, leaning against Steve’s broad frame. ‘Now watch.’

The play is little under half an hour, during which Tony almost falls asleep twice, and ends with three rounds of applause. It’s… cute, Tony decides that’s the best word, cute is the perfect umbrella term.

‘Tired?’ Steve asks, his breath tickling the side of Tony’s neck.

‘Nah,’ Tony stands up, stretching his stiff limbs, just like everyone else. ‘Now we’ll have the dances and things. And I’ll have my me-time with the kids. My skin color is about to fade.’

‘Go on then,’ Steve gives him a quick encouraging kiss and gives him a nudge to go.

Tony leads the kids to the other room for a few moments, and he tries his best to explain why he’s been pretending to be someone else, JARVIS speaking for him for half of the time, before he decided he can acquaint everyone present with his real voice.

The older ones are fascinated when they realize who he is, letting go of the disguise piece by piece, and the younger seem to think it’s hilarious and giggle endlessly. He has this conversation with JARVIS before: is it better to tell them Nate went back to England and couldn’t come back, or let them know he’s Stark and he’s _dying_?

‘It is always better to tell the truth,’ JARVIS commented in his careful tone, ‘and furthermore, according to psychological theories, it would be better for them to know that you are terminally ill than to assume you chose to abandon them.’

‘Always the sound of reason,’ Tony muttered, but he knew J was right, and he can see it easily in the kids’ eyes – those old enough to understand death at least – that he made the right decision coming here.

‘But you all,’ he says at the end of the short conversation, ‘you have a ball to attend. I expect you to show me your dancing skills, I hear you’ve been practicing. Also, I have my own date to dance with, he said he was learning some moves, too. Okay?’

There’s a rumble of agreeing mutters and everyone goes back to the common room, adjusting their costumes on their way to look impeccable, and Tony almost doesn’t notice one little creature, dressed all in brown and read, that stayed behind.

‘What is it, Miah?’ he asks, crouching so that his face is on her level; she’s six, in the end.

‘My friend from school was sick, and we went to see her in hospital,’ she says, twirling the hem of her skirt behind her little fingers. ‘Can we see you?’

‘Well, I’m staying home now,’ Tony replies, trying to ignore the silly melty feeling inside that he’s never expect _Stark_ to experience, of all people. ‘But if I’m in hospital and need cheering up, I call you, okay?’

‘Okay,’ she agrees solemnly, glancing at the door, then at him, and at the door again.

Tony chuckles.

‘C’mere,’ he says and she climbs into his arms; he’s glad she’s young and tiny, otherwise he wouldn’t be able to do this, but hey. He can. He gives Steve a _don’t say anything_ look when they enter the bigger room, Miah with the widest smile in the universe on her face, and she gets the first dance. Steve doesn’t look too jealous.

By the end of the evening Tony is quite tired with the constant high-pitched childish voices, the whirlwind of bodies all around, and the relentless attention, but it’s the good kind of tired. They are ready to make their exit with Steve when Annik grabs Tony’s wrist and drags him to another room; Tony lets her and nods at Steve to give them a moment.

He expects her to ask questions, accuse him of lying, maybe give an outraged speech, but all the does is give him a hug and say, ‘Thank you.’

‘For?’

‘For telling him the truth. They missed you.’

‘I’m sorry –’

‘Just come back,’ she interrupts him, and blinks. ‘Feels strange to cut you off mid-sentence,’ she sounds amused, but then her ace grows serious. ‘Or if you don’t come back, let them come to you. Let them know they’re wanted.’

‘Believe me, I’m already planning a thing,’ he assures her, he has a few nice ideas, indeed. As Tony Stark he can be as lavish as he wants and no one will question it, one good thing. ‘I’ll be in touch.’

She nods and lets go of his hand. It takes just sixteen steps to be out in the rain-scented world outside. Steve is waiting next to the car, arms crossed casually, standing in the middle of a street lamp pool of light, and opens the door as Tony approaches.

Tony hesitates. Steve is waiting just there, holding the door open, and Tony’s phone vibrates in his pocket so he takes it out and reads the message from J: _you are too tired to go for a walk_.

‘That meddlesome creature,’ Tony mutters under his breath but he knows JARVIS monitors his pulse, heart rate, blood pressure, and everything else he can, so Tony ducks under Steve’s arm and makes himself comfortable in the front seat. ‘Let’s drive,’ he says when Steve closes his door and starts the engine.

‘You sure?’

Tony loves him for not questioning it at the very moment.

‘Yeah. Let’s.’

He doesn’t remember falling asleep, all he knows is the lights mirrored in asphalt’s moist surface as it starts to rain again, dancing in his eyes like a kaleidoscope, and Steve’s voice rambling about the kids sounds feels like a warm blanket around his heavy limbs.

 

 

‘So I fell asleep in a random place again,’ he groans at Steve’s blue eyes fixed on him when he wakes up, a second later he registers the deep rumbling noise coming from outside. ‘And it’s one of the endless rain days. Great. I should have stayed asleep.’

‘No one is telling you to get up, grumpy,’ Steve’s voice is far too cheerful for Tony’s liking. ‘I’m sorry. I woke you up, it’s time for your meds. But you can go to sleep if you want to, no one is forbidding you that pleasure.’

‘Six a.m. _again_.’

‘That’s how it goes, sorry. Every six hours and you know it.’

‘Yeah, yeah,’ Tony mumbles, sitting up, as Steve reaches for the small plastic cup he must have prepared earlier. The pills taste like nothing, followed by water, and soon Tony is back laying on his side, the duvet wrapped snugly around him. ‘Come here,’ he says, raising the edge, Steve moves over to wrap his big body around Tony’s, holding him securely with his arms. ‘Wait, aren’t you training people today or something?’

‘Have to be there at seven so I can still stay with you for another half hour.’

‘Good.’

Tony manages not to fall asleep during the next thirty minutes, the biggest success of the day, he notices when he gets up though.

‘Rest,’ he orders Tony, grabbing his clothes from the closet and making Tony cringe inside at how mismatched everything is.

‘All I do is rest.’

‘Because that’s what you need.’

‘What’s the fun in living if I don’t get to do anything exciting? Resting is boring. I can literally feel my brain die neuron by neuron, it’s a horrible feeling, believe me –’

‘You’ve been working pretty much every day.’

‘– that means nothing. Really. This isn’t working _much_.’

‘JARVIS told me to watch you, you know,’ Steve comments, a small smirk climbing onto his face. ‘He told me how you used to get before when you were in a creative spree, not sleeping for a few days at time.’

‘Traitor.’

‘I was just sharing pleasant memories with Captain Rogers,’ JARVIS speaks up, but his voice isn’t everywhere, it comes from one spot only, Tony moves around to quickly that he makes his neck hurt. ‘Hello, Sir,’ Iron Man says, standing by the window, in a very _human_ -like pose, from the lack of better description, leaning against the huge window frame and looking out at the dark cloud-covered city.

‘J. Fancy seeing you here, sweetheart.’

‘You too, sir.’

‘Yeah, what a lucky coincidence I was in, no?’ Tony jokes, ignoring the armor’s unmoving mask faced towards him. ‘What is it?’

‘I wanted to ask you for permission to fly the armors to the Tower. It is today, according to the schedule we drafted.’

‘Oh,’ Tony blinks, glancing at the calendar that JARVIS conveniently put up in the air a second earlier. ‘We moving _today_? Fuck. I forgot. How could I forget? Why didn’t someone remind me yesterday? Wait, what are we moving today, we won’t do all this in one day – did we decide to leave the flat furnished? When did we do it?’

‘I had a long conversation with Mister Hogan and he agreed we should leave the apartment furnished, indeed, sir. That would be counterproductive to move things as you let Miss Potts decorate all the interior of the Tower, including the residential floors. I can assure you they are quite aesthetically pleasing.’

‘Oh well. I guess that means I won’t have to avoid people in here like plague,’ he mutters, giving JARVIS an approving nod; he’s been making sure he isn’t seen as Tony Stark by his neighbors. It’s different with Riverside – it’s important for him and for the kids – but the neighbors, that would be complicated and too difficult to control as he still doesn’t feel too sure about letting the world know about Rives and Stark.

He’s leaving them letters; they’ve been ready for a few days now. It’s simple: he needs to go back to the UK, where he came from almost two years ago. Urgent matters. They are adults and they will understand, he decided, and still sticks to the thought.

‘Miss Potts will be waiting for you, in fact, she took the day off to help you settle in. Mister Hogan suggests you pack the most important things to take with you when you leave the house in two hours, forty two minutes.’

‘Do I have to?’ Tony whines, standing up and looking around the room. He isn’t sure what is important enough to take with himself, apart from a few notebooks filled with scribbles and drawings, all the meds, and bots.

‘I will gladly assist you, sir. I can stay while the other armors are transported. I was hoping you would allow me that.’

‘If you want to,’ Tony shrugs, grabbing Steve’s shirt from the chair and putting it on, he feels a bit cold for no reason. The room is as warm as always but then his body doesn’t exactly work well. He also ignores the giddy feeling he gets about every time JARVIS says _want_ , _hope_ , _believe_.

‘How long will it take to take down the workshop and turn it back into a normal room?’

‘A week. The works will start tomorrow and I will make sure everything goes as planned as indeed it is an extremely sensitive situation. Colonel Rhodes agreed to help, the workers already signed a confidentiality agreement.’

‘You’re golden, J,’ he frowns a bit, and then corrects himself, ‘or red and gold, whatever.’

‘Amusing, sir,’ JARVIS comments drily and walks out of the room, imitating the previous Iron Man’s body movements, leaving Tony alone to Steve humming something unrecognizable while shaving.

 

 

Tony is ready in less than two hours and forty two minutes. When he moved in here, only JARVIS and the bots mattered; he’s never been very attached to his possessions. Probably comes with being a billionaire and always able to buy whatever he wanted in the world. Happy is ready in less time, too, and he has Steve’s small duffle stacked with his things.

‘Pepper has someone coming over at noon, and yes, they will make sure to take your damn palm tree to the Tower. Happy?’

‘Are _you_ happy?’ Tony can’t stop himself from asking, gaining a bored stare and a raised eyebrow. ‘I know that was bad. You now I can’t stop myself.’

‘Just go and don’t speak until you get in the car,’ Happy sighs, opening the door, letting Tony pass, and then locking it. They take the lift straight to the dark underground garage, JARVIS making sure no one joins them on the ride, and get into the car. It’s a short drive, the Tower is, of course, in the very center of Manhattan, screaming _Stark_ at everyone who dares to look up towards the sky.

‘How are you feeling?’ a familiar voice asks as soon as they get out of the elevator, at the second floor from the top. ‘You look tired.’

‘You always say that,’ Tony complains, opening his arms, and Pepper hugs him tightly. ‘You, on the other hand, look amazing. You always look amazing but now you’re looking even more amazing.’

‘Stop that already,’ she laughs, giving him another hug before she pulls away. ‘Welcome to your apartments, Mister Stark. Would you like a tour?’

‘That would be appreciated, Miss Potts,’ he plays along even though he’s memorized the floor plan a long time ago, seeing the interior is new though. His only requirements were for the workshop which is a floor down and he’s already seen it in JARVIS-made holograms.

The place is a step away from Pepper’s usual cold and minimalistic functionality, it’s still all light colors, lots of empty spaces, and some modern art, but it feels… homey. In a strange way Tony can’t quite pinpoint: maybe it’s the soft warm-looking carpets that cover the perfectly polished wood, or soft curtains making the light milky and delicate, or maybe it’s the damn palm tree that magically arrived there before himself and Happy did. Which shouldn’t be possible but there it is, right in the middle of the living room.

‘It’s great, Pep, I love it, everything is perfect. I would never expect anything less from you,’ he laughs, kissing her cheek briefly. ‘It feels good.’

‘It’s the scent of freshly-baked bread and vanilla,’ she says, smirking, because he can read his mind. ‘I read in a magazine that’s what property agencies use when they want to sell a house, apparently, it appeals to almost all human population as pleasant, happy, and home-like. Good to know you still qualify as a human.’

‘You’re mean,’ he pouts, turning around slowly and taking in the details once more. ‘Amazing sofa. Is it like the one I have in Malibu?’

‘Yes, it is.’

‘Very good for falling asleep,’ he comments, remembering all the nights he couldn’t be bothered to go up to his bedroom and slept on the sofa instead, right in the middle of the open space living room slash hallway. He almost misses the briefest look she gives him, one that makes him feel momentarily sick. She did it on purpose: she knows he’s getting tired too easily, falling asleep in strange places, and that it will only get more and more frequent. ‘Uhm, so, can we see the kitchen? Is the fridge stocked?’ he changes the subject, putting his hands into pockets. ‘I could eat something. Didn’t feel like it earlier and believe it or not, I’m feeling a bit hungry now.’

‘I’m sure we can find something,’ she smiles and leads him to the last room, one they haven’t seen yet. Tony stops in the doorway, blinking, as soon as gets a look inside.

‘Good morning, kid,’ Scott says casually, closing the newspaper he was reading. _The Times,_ Tony notes dully, how unsurprising. ‘Stop gaping and say hello, it’s only proper. Where are your manners?’

‘Good morning, make yourself at home,’ Tony says just a bit sarcastically, bowing his head slightly. ‘Sweet to see you.’

‘It will be much sweeter after I’ve seen you eat.’

Tony chuckles but makes his way towards the fridge obediently, Pepper right behind him. Happy joints in a few minutes later and they sit in the kitchen for hours, talking and pretending; Tony enjoys the change, even if the endless chattering gives him a slight headache. He’s missed it. It’s good. That’s all that matters.

 

 

The next morning Tony stays in the new bed – he managed to fall asleep after his usual 6 a.m. wake up call – for longer than he normally would, contemplating the new space around him, the stunning view of New York he can see out of the corner of his eye, and the lightness in his limbs. The good kind, as opposed to exhaustion that consumes him too much.

He sits up, surprised at no vertigo at the sudden movement, and smiles widely.

‘Morning, baby,’ he greets JARVIS, standing up. The floor is slightly warm under his feet, a pleasant feeling, almost like walking on tiles that were absorbing sunray heat all afternoon, far south from where he is now.

‘Morning, sir. Would you like a weather update?’

‘Is it gonna rain?’

‘Chance of precipitation, four percent.’

‘That makes me happy enough. No rain. Cool,’ he says, making his way to the shower room, it can’t be called anything less. The hot water feel pleasant and relaxing so he takes longer than he normally would, and spends the next five minutes sitting on the bed and breathing something that’s not steam, the cooler air of the room refreshing on his pink skin.

‘Sir, I assume you remember your appointment with Doctor Eldridge?’

‘Can’t wait,’ Tony replies, buttoning up his shirt, and surprised himself by really meaning it.

It’s just a check-up: she asks Tony about his mood and pain levels and nods with content when his responses are satisfying, and draws his blood to make sure everything is in check.

‘You seem rather happy today,’ she comments when they’re almost finished, Tony lingering around, finding himself waiting for something, pacing around the room.

‘It’s the best I’ve felt in a few weeks,’ he tells her; it’s relieving, not having to explain the implications of such statement. She has experience in palliative care which means she knows. ‘It’s nice.’

‘Then what are you still doing here?’ she questions, closing his file and putting it on the side. ‘Go celebrate.’

That, Tony realizes, is what he wanted to hear.

‘I’ll see you,’ he says before leaving the room. As soon as he is in the corridor, ignoring people staring at him – he’s good at that – he texts Clint, the reply is almost instant and one-worded. Tony nods to himself and goes back to the car. For a moment he contemplates putting on Nate’s disguise, only because it’d be easier, but he decides against it. That’s cheating.

It takes him ten minutes to find a parking space near the chocolaterie but he’s still the first one there. He can tell people recognize him – come on, who wouldn’t – but they just give him looks and whisper to each other, no one brave enough to walk up or speak to him.

 _5 min_ , Clint texts him a moment later, so Tony orders for both of them, knowing the archer’s favorites well enough.

‘ _Hello_ ,’ he signs when Clint enters the place and spots him, sitting in the far table by the window, half-hidden behind robust flower vases.

‘Hi, man. That was unexpected,’ Clint sits down, frowning at the lack of menus on the table, as if he needed one. Before he can comment on it, the waitress arrives with a tray full of food, both sweet and savory. She gives Tony a shy smile and almost runs away after she’s put all the plated down on the table.

‘I ordered. Hope you don’t mind. It’s on me, by the way.’

‘Looks good, thanks – you got savory food? _Really_? Here?’

‘It’s good. Don’t give me that look, there’s plenty of chocolate. I felt like eating canapés, so I though why not, as they say, carpe diem and all that.’

‘Oh,’ Clint makes a face with realization. ‘Of course. Sorry.’

‘If you apologize again, I’m making you pay for this –’

‘You know I get a lot of money for protecting the world?’

‘ _Don’t care, it’s the idea that matters_ ,’ Tony signs back, already chewing on his sandwich. It tastes good and feels appetizing, as if it had a real pronounced flavor that made his body want it, on a purely instinctive level. ‘ _You know, I’m still the same person. You don’t have to put up your game. You can sign me and insult me all you want, and tell me all the gossip. I know this_ ,’ he gestures at himself, ‘ _changes a lot, but you have to deal with it now. It took me a long time to make that decision and I don’t regret it, no matter what._ ’

Clint shrugs and focuses on the food for a few long minutes, stealing Tony’s canapés one after another, apparently having decided they are good enough after the first bite.

‘ _It’s just distracting how pale you are_ ,’ he signs eventually and grabs a spoon, indicating that it’s the end of the discussion as his hands are too occupied to reply. Tony smirks.

‘ _Believe me, it was more distracting to me when I had to deal with it all the time, for the first few weeks, looking at myself in the mirror and seeing someone else. Weird as fuck but you get used to it. Apparently you can get used to most things._ ’

Clint gives him another couple minutes of silence before signing, ‘ _I haven’t been here since the last time we came over, you know. How romantic of me – and please realize the sacrifice, not having the best hot choc in town for weeks. Torture, I say_.’

‘ _Poor you_ ,’ Tony decides, biting into a chocolate sponge roll and closing his eyes with pleasure. Celebrating, indeed. _This_ is most worth celebrating.

‘ _And we should make another cycling trip around the town sometime, and get here in the end, like we used to._ ’

‘ _I can’t_ ,’ Tony frowns. Clint’s eyes gleam mischievously.

‘ _I know, I know, what if I put you in one of those little kid carriages, sound fun_.’

‘ _You’re a cruel man_. _I’m dying here and you’re cruel,_ ’ Tony pretends to pout but it doesn’t work well when he’s chewing on another chocolate treat.

‘ _You said not to treat you differently_ , Clint laughs hollowly, in a familiar way he never does around people he has to _speak_ with, making Tony feel as if they went back in time. There have been so many scenes like this a year ago, and earlier.

They eat and talk for some more time, Tony half-distracted with what he wants to ask Clint but he’s afraid; it’s personal and painful and he isn’t cruel. But he has to ask.

‘ _Clint_ ,’ he signs over the clean table, only his wallet and a small vase of flowers remaining. They are a moment from leaving and he knows he has to do it now. ‘ _Could I ask you a favor_?’

‘ _Shoot._ ’

‘ _It’s rather sensitive_.’

‘ _Go on_ ,’ Clint signs, leaning over the table, and fixes his eyes on Tony’s hands with a serious face.

‘ _I know you thought you’d lose Phil for some time. We never said it but we all thought so, and you knew it_ ,’ Clint nods sharply. ‘ _You know how it feels more than anyone I know. When I_ …’

‘ _I’ll be there_ ,’ Clint signs quickly, the words almost tangled, ’ _I can’t promise anything_.’

‘ _Thank you_ ,’ the sign forms in his hands easily. ‘Thanks for today, too,’ he says aloud, ‘it was fun.’

‘One can never have too much chocolate,’ Clint declares solemnly, as if he’s already forgot what Tony’s just mentioned, with a practices ease of a spy. ‘Will you come over sometime soon?’

‘You might meet me at S.H.I.E.L.D., I think I have an overdue visit to pay them, and I thought you guys could come over for a party over the weekend. Since we moved. You’ll love the view, it’s the highest point in NYC you can get to. Billionaires only perfection. I’ll have Ijon tell you when and all.’

‘I’ll be waiting,’ Clint agrees, putting on his helmet, and jumps onto one of Steve’s bikes. Curious.

Tony waves him goodbye and makes his way back to the car, trying not to bump into too many people in the lunchtime busy hour, and drives to the big workshop to have some fun. Also, to finish a few things he wants to show Fury when he comes over, to placate the man, but that’s just a secondary reason.

This is the best way to celebrate he can think of: creating.

 

 

The _celebrating_ thing lasts for another two days. He spends a lovely evening with his friends over dinner, playing silly games, watching movies, and laughing until his lungs ache; then he reserves a whole day for Steve and flying. That’s the most amazing combination he’s managed to come up with: Steve and flying.

He’s invited the team to come over on Saturday but by Thursday he knows he’d rather be in curled up in a bed for the next few days, even though he hates to admit it to himself. It’s funny how easy it is to notice the changes with as much experience as he’s gained by now, learning his body inside out. And his doctors always tell him to trust his instincts about his needs.

It’s hard to explain it to anyone so he doesn’t, but there’s a heaviness building back in his limbs, and a nausea whenever he looks at food, and all he wants to do is sleep.

He still get sup on Friday morning, makes himself look presentable, and announces to Steve that he’s going to S.H.I.E.L.D. in half an hours.

‘Why?’

‘I owe Fury a few words. And the guys I worked with.’

‘You don’t have to do anything –’

‘I feel like I should.’

‘Then do it,’ Steve agrees is if it were simple. ‘Want me to come, too?’

‘Always,’ Tony laughs, giving Steve a quick kiss. He has JARVIS tell Hermes to tell Fury he wants to give a little speech at HQ and, finding the corridors all empty and silent when he gets there, he laughs. His voice echoes all down the halls. Steve stares.

‘Tony?’

‘Yes, darling?’

‘You sure you’re up to this?’

‘It’s just cute,’ Tony says, avoiding answering the question. He is very up to this. It’ll be fun. ‘Cute how everyone does what I say. Cute, almost,’ he adds, stepping into the HQ’s assembly hall to see a sea of black-clad agents. Okay. So this probably _is_ everyone who was around. Very funny.

When they notice him, dressed in one of Stark’s sharpest suits, signature sunglasses in place, they move out of his way, forming a path. That makes him laugh again, as he walks down, familiar with being surrounded with endless assessing eyes, Steve two steps behind him.

‘Mister Stark finally decided to please us with his presence so let’s thank him for the damn honor,’ Fury says, his voice low and dangerous, as he claps his hands a few times, the sound filling the room in sharp jabs. The agents follow and Tony realizes he’s never known clapping can be sarcastic. Funny how they get Fury so well, maybe it’s in employee handbook, a certain set of humor. Like, see if a candidate laughs at a set of jokes.

He really shouldn’t be thinking about this right now.

‘How kind of your dear Director to organize all of this just for me,’ Tony says sweetly as soon as he walks up to the microphone. So, explanation time, is it?

Fury’s staring. Tony can feel the anger burning through his back, it’s distracting. He promised himself he wouldn’t be bothered by Fury but this is a bit like being back to school. Everyone is staring at him and judging, Tony might be vain, but he’s aware of how imperfect he is looking. How imperfect he is.

‘So, the Director is annoyed with me, should I be surprised? I shouldn’t. I’m sure we’ve _all_ been there,’ he says and everyone goes quiet in a split of a second. Eerie. ‘To be honest I wanted to talk to some people Iron Man and Nate Rives worked with. This is quite unnecessary but I’ll take it as a compliment,’ he looks around. No one seems to move or breathe; he tries to find any familiar places in the crowd, but it’s too much effort.

Okay, so he’s had this in SI, he’s acquainted with crowds and the master of awkward situations, but they are just staring. And he isn’t even sure what he wants to say anymore: his words were one quarter apology and three quarters motivational speech to a certain group of people he’s learned to know well enough, and this feel inadequate.

He clears his throat, the voice amplified by countless speakers, and looks around one more time. Even Steve’s face is unreadable; he seems to be surprised at Tony’s reluctance.

Fury’s just damn evil, choosing this as a payback for being kept in the dark, Tony decides. There have to be, like, two thousand people standing in front of him, and he’s _tired_. He knows he looks tired. He should’ve just stayed home, he realizes.

The silence is ringing in his ears.

‘So, this is the day when we find Tony Stark speechless. Historical event, agents. Remember it,’ he hears Fury’s voice surround him, everyone shifting a little, a soft rustle of movement breezing through the room. Tony looks back with a frown to see Fury smirking but there’s nothing vicious in it, which somehow surprises him by how unfitting it looks. Director seems rather… proud. ‘Ladies and gentleman,’ he continues, staring straight into Tony’s eyes, ‘an applause for the man who fooled S.H.I.E.L.D, please,’ Fury says and winks at Tony, joining in. Tony turns to Steve to see him clapping, too, that traitor.

So he just stands there for what seems like ages. He doesn’t know how long it is, he just stands there, frozen in place, the applause echoing and overlapping, this time perfectly honest and real, people _smiling_ at him, and he doesn’t know what to say. Probably thank them. Or say nothing.

He didn’t do anything that amazing, did he? _The man who fooled S.H.I.E.L.D._ How many unsaid words Fury managed to fit in there.

‘Hey,’ he suddenly hears Steve’s voice whispering right into his air, ‘wasn’t there something you wanted to tell them?’

Tony breathes out, feeling Steve’s arms wrap around his waist – he doesn’t mind but it’d in front of all these people and it’s _nice_ , and realizes the noise had gone down a few notches. It’s still there, but it’s expectant, in a strange way.

‘There are some things I didn’t say publicly and won’t say publicly,’ he states into the microphone. Steve doesn’t move an inch and Tony can see some people pointing at the discretely and whispering to each other. ‘But you deserve it because S.H.I.E.L.D. had been a big part of the last few years of my life, and almost home to Iron Man. Sometimes to Rives, too. It’s not just Avengers that matter. We – all of us here and more agents who are away – we saved the world together. Changed it. That’s something,’ this time he claps first and everyone follows. It’s a short one though. ‘So, it’s cancer. I learned I was sick before I joined you. I knew I was going to die a few months after I joined you and I’ve done some amazing things with you since I came here. I think all I wanted to do is thank you, and say I’ve had great time.’

There’s that silence again, but this time Tony smiles at them.

‘I’ll see to everything I’ve left unfinished and since now, you can speak with Spider Man the way you’d speak with Rives, and you can speak with Iron Man the way you’d speak with, well, Iron Man,’ he chuckles. ‘And now, because I can, I’ll give you a cheesy live advice from a dying man: live your fucking lives to the fullest,’ he says and turns around slightly, stands on his toes, as kisses Steve. Steve, surprisingly, doesn’t seem to mind at all.

Tony makes a peace sign with his free hand, the other wrapped around Steve, and when they walk down to the back of the stage, there are whistles and clapping and shouts accompanying them. Tony wears a smile persistently and drops it only when they are in the other room, only Fury following them. When he closes the door, the noise of crowd moving outside is cut down almost completely.

‘You’ve been avoiding me,’ Fury says accusingly and looks like he wants to say more but he seems to notice something in Tony’s face that makes him stop.

‘Water?’ Steve asks, letting Tony out of his grasp so that he can sit down. Tony nods. ‘There you are,’ Steve produces a bottle seemingly out of nowhere. ‘Drink. All of it. He’s not feeling that well,’ he explains, turning to Fury.

‘Steve,’ Tony whines between sips; he can say his own words, can’t he?

Fury ignores them both.

‘I’m annoyed with you, yes, Stark, because I asked you numerous times if there’s anything I can do and you always refused to tell me anything, and now I learn you have cancer and I feel like I should have done something. So that you wouldn’t – die,’ the last word is more of a choke than a real word.

Tony considers.

‘You couldn’t have done anything and I’m sorry I was lying to you. I didn’t feel like sharing my story. I still don’t feel like sharing,’ Tony grimaces, handing Steve the empty bottle. The water seems to sit heavy in his stomach, there goes eating anything today, he realizes. ‘S.H.I.E.L.D. did a lot of great things, like I said earlier. It’s enough.’

‘Whatever you say, Stark,’ Fury grumbles, twirling with the holster strapped to his leg, as if he didn’t care about the conversation. Tony knows that technique too well.

‘There’s something you can do for me though, you know,’ Tony adds, standing up, ready to leave with Steve. He needs to rest. Be somewhere quiet. Distract himself. ‘Do you want to do something for me?’

‘Like a last wish?’

‘Might have some more wishes, I don’t think I’m dying today or something,’ Tony grins. Fury stares, not very amused. ‘If you want to do something for me, do this: _never_ question Iron Man. He’s part of S.H.I.E.L.D. now, so he’s under your jurisdiction and protection, and I tell you this: I trust him with my life. Never question him.’

‘I trust your word,’ Fury says, crossing his arms on his chest. Tony takes a step towards the door when he adds, ‘is he going to be pain in the ass, like Hermes?’

‘He is my best friend, what do you think?’ Tony replies, raising an eyebrow, and leaves the room with Fury’s fate-accepting face before his eyes.

‘I want to go home,’ Tony mutters to Steve, taking his hand, and lets Steve lead him back to the car. They don’t say anything more.

 

 

Doc decides Tony just has a cold.

‘ _Just_ a cold doesn’t work like that with you, though. Your body is too engaged with fighting something else and taking care of the tumor as much as it can manage so this simple thing is exhausting you.’

‘But I don’t feel like I have cold, I mean, I don’t have sore throat. Or blocked nose. Or anything –’

‘You’ve got mild fever, headache, difficulty swallowing, and hoarse voice. That’s enough. Symptoms don’t have to be typical. We’ve checked everything else and it seems as good as it can be, yes?’

‘Yeah.’

‘So you just drink plenty and _rest_.’

Tony nods, pulling the blanket under his chin, and tries to ignore the strange feeling all through his body; it feels like a bad flu. But it isn’t, he knows, if he had a flu Doc wouldn’t hesitate to drive him to hospital, especially with the little trinket in Tony’s chest. He never knew a simple cold could be this exhausting.

It turns out he can’t hold anything down, either, which isn’t a new thing. Doc gives him three hours of trying to hydrate his body and throwing up all the water he drinks before he hooks Tony up to an IV.

The next morning there’s a bruise in the crook of his arm and he squints at the sunray running across right across it, its brightness almost blinding. Lovely. The first cloudless day in weeks.

‘J, I don’t think I want to see anyone today,’ he whispers. His throat hurts and his voice is rough from yesterday, he can still almost taste the bile in his mouth; it’s scary how familiar that feels.

JARVIS knows what he’s saying is: _I don’t think I want anyone to see me today._ They had the talk before.

‘I already canceled your appointment with the team, Ijon informed them the meeting will be moved to a more suitable date,’ there’s a moment of silence when Tony examines the purple and red on his arm with morbid fascination. He’ll probably need another transfusion soon. ‘Sir, do you trust them?’

‘Sorry?’ Tony’s head snaps up and he finds himself staring at the white ceiling.

‘Would you trust them to see you like you are today?’

‘Not when I still have the choice.’

‘Of course,’ JARVIS acknowledges easily, as if it made perfect sense. ‘Your fever is lower today. It seems the medicine Doctor Eisen administered yesterday is working.’

Tony nods and then gestures at JARVIS to show him who is around, a fancy feature he’s got to his very own Tower. Pepper is in the office, Happy in the lobby, talking with someone, Doc is in the second floor canteen, and Steve isn’t there at all which means he’s at S.H.I.E.L.D. The rest of the people are marked in a different color so that Tony can ignore them promptly. He sighs, deciding against getting up, and lets JARVIS entertain him with a screening of an old science-fiction movie with the A.I. snarky commentary lulling him to sleep.

 

 

It takes Tony two days before he can keep down his food and another two before he can walk around like a normal human, without feeling like his limbs were detached from his body, and he enjoys the lovely feeling by spending some quality time in workshop with JARVIS and Marks. JARVIS has agreed to work with him as long as he stays in his armchair and doesn’t overexert himself.

They are a few hours in – Tony had a milkshake and a few crackers in the meantime to keep him going – when there’s an assemble call. Steve’s at HQ with Rhodey, Natasha and Clint, having a meeting of their hand-to-hand, human-only training group, so they can jump on the Quinjet anytime.

‘Go and kick the bad guy’s asses, J,’ Tony gives the A.I. his blessing, almost managing it with straight face, and watches the newest armor fly out. There’s no need for stealth mode anymore: anyone can see Iron Man flying out of Stark Tower. The whole world know it’s Tony’s invention and it makes him damn proud. He wants to show the new Iron Man off, like a proud parent. Ah. Funny thought.

‘So, have you finished the pressure calculations yet?’ he asks, turning away from the windows to look at the big screen, JARVIS calm voice assuring him that he indeed has.

 

 

Tony stays up working most of the night, only partially to keep updated on the fight – somewhere in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, scientific experiments gone wrong _again_ , silly and dangerous – and mostly because he can. He’s slept so much past few days that he feels fully awake and decided to take advantage and share some of the things cooped up in his head with his favorite A.I. and some S.I. engineers he emails instantly, knowing they’ll be happy to see the messages first thing in the morning.

Steve comes home just after five, takes a quick shower, and joins Tony who’s moved to the living room in the meantime, tiptoeing silently.

‘Hey, hero, good job,’ he says, giving Steve a small smile. ‘JARVIS said the weather will be nice, stay up and watch the sunrise with me? I didn’t get to see it from up here yet and we’ve been here for like a week. More than that.’

‘If you insist,’ Steve decides, climbing onto the sofa and letting Tony lean against him. They talk for the remaining hour and when the bright pink and yellow glow appears over the ocean, Tony can’t help but smile. It’s so simple and annoyingly pretty.

A shiver runs down Tony’s spine and he realizes his feet and hands are ice cold; JARVIS sneakily kept the ‘shop much warmer during the night. Steve seems to notice that, too, so he covers Tony with a blanket and hugs him tightly.

 ‘Are you sure you don’t you want to move to Malibu? There’s Californian sun shining there almost all the time, and it’s warm, I know how much you dislike the gloom and the cold –’

‘Steve’, Tony cuts in, his voice is quiet but firm, ‘We made this place home. If I am to die, I want to die in Manhattan.’

‘Well then,’ Steve replies in the very same tone, ‘I won’t complain.’

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> I apologize, though I cannot apologize enough (but I made sure you have the 15k to read ^^) I hope you haven't forgotten about this story and that you enjoyed this chapter despite the long wait. It's the last one in this part, the remaining piece is a bonus. And there one last step to finish the series... I know it's not as exciting, me trying to tie up loose ends and giving you answers instead of posing questions. 
> 
> Please stop for a moment and share your thoughts with me. It matters unspeakably much to get feedback from you all <3


	3. bonus

JARVIS observes and listens.

Sometimes, when there are more important tasks to focus on, he only gives Human Matters only a small percentage of his attention – he is as aware of them as always, only, like Sir would phrase it, _he doesn’t care_. It is not a fully adequate description but expresses the idea quite well.

Sometimes, JARVIS gives Humans full attention, leaving his other functions in the background: it has always been because of Sir until today.

October 29th, 2013, 7:14:29 a.m., JARVIS kills a man. It is necessary: Avengers are in central Africa, location classified, dealing with a hostage situation. Members of a terrorist organization have invaded a research facility and took control of the arms and experimental devices present. The man (JARVIS quickly identifies him as Reuben Befort, wanted for attempted murder and rape) is holding a machine gun and seconds away from finding a way to use it. JARVIS’ scans indicate the bullets are laced with poison which means certain death to anyone as much as grazed by them.

There are fourteen civilians in close proximity, as well as Agent Romanov and Colonel Rhodes (safe in the armor.) 99.8% probability they will all die if he does not act. The man has already killed at least six people since the attack started.

JARVIS does not hesitate.

No one else dies afterwards and JARVIS observes _his_ team closely, waiting for the adrenaline to leave their bodies and for the long flight back to New York when they have to realize what transpired.

Every kill before that has been at Sir’s command. This one, it is just a machine killing humans.

It takes the Avengers relatively long to display subtle signs of realization; the only one to act normally is, logically, Colonel Rhodes.

‘Good job, J,’ he says. JARVIS inclines Iron Man’s arm in recognition of the words. The pilot (Joseph Brown Jr.), who is a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent lent to the Avengers, gives Iron Man a quick glance JARVIS interprets as suspicious or unsure. He does not know the truth but he appears skeptical about someone new acting as Iron Man, despite the good job JARVIS did.

 

 

Debrief is postponed until the next day as there are local S.H.I.E.L.D. teams investigating the scene back in Africa, so the team is allowed to break up and rest. JARVIS does not need it, he says his goodbyes and leaves. When he arrives back in Stark Tower, he heads straight to Sir’s rooms.

Sir is in bed, his eyes closed, but his brainwave pattern indicates he is awake. The last three days have not been very good, Sir has been in pain, tired, and nauseous. There is a line attached to his arm right now, intravenous sugar solution dripping slowly, nourishing the exhausted body.

JARVIS stops by the window, staring at the skyline of New York through the armor’s narrow, human-like _eyes_. Not unlike Sir likes to do himself. JARVIS has to admit this perspective gives an impression different from the panoramic and total view he usually uses as his primary.

‘Good job, buddy,’ Sir says, eyes still closed, and smiles slightly. The tone of his voice is different from usual, and the volume is lower, JARVIS notices easily.

‘Can I ask you a question, sir?’

‘You already did,’ Sir says predictably and waits for JARVIS to continue.

‘Is it going to be like that when you are gone?’

‘… like?’

‘People questioning me.’

‘I hate to break it to you, baby, but that’s what people always do. They question, they’re mean, they hate you, and they are jealous. That’s what you’re stuck with right now.’

‘You have never questioned me,’ JARVIS announces, after a quick search in his old databases. Sir has always been exceptionally understanding.

‘You’ve never done anything that would warrant being questioned… So, the guys stared at you in a weird way?’

‘You could say so, sir –’

‘Don’t mind other humans, J. That’s my good advice for you,’ Sir stops, coughing for a long moment, then takes a few deep breaths and continues, ‘And the team, they’re just in awe.’

‘They did not seem –’

‘J, buddy, I made you and I love you,’ Sir says; JARVIS knows Sir opens his eyes to look at Iron Man, so he makes the armor turn around and face Sir. ‘But there are some things you don’t get perfectly yet. Humans are too complicated for most humans to understand, so no worries, but. We talked, me and them. They’ve had Ijon around for long enough to understand how extraordinary he is, and you are more. Okay? They’re reluctant, they’re in awe, they need time to make damn friends with you, that’s what they need.’

JARVIS straightens Iron Man’s back (sometimes he adopts Sir’s human behavioral patterns) and nods sharply. It is just an empty movement, he does not _feel_ it, but it is the meaning that counts.

JARVIS walks he armor back to Sir’s workshop, but only after Sir falls asleep again.

 

 

JARVIS plans and fulfills Sir’s orders.

Sir has been feeling better, getting out of bed to work and meet his team, sometimes to go on dates with Captain Rogers or lunch breaks with Miss Potts, but when he is alone, with no one likely to enter the room, he does not pretend to smile.

Sir had been running a fever and begged JARVIS not to tell anyone until the end of the day, so that he can do his work and enjoy his day before everyone _goes crazy_ , as he phrased it.

‘Are you trying to let the cancer take over sooner than it could, neglecting your health?’ JARVIS asks blankly. He is allowed. Between Sir and him there is a perfect, complete bluntness.

‘What if I am?’ Sir asks tiredly in return, running a hand through his sweaty hair. He is shivering. JARVIS can tell, thanks to heat scans, that Sir’s hands are ice cold, like they have been for the last few months. ‘No, J,’ he adds, chuckling humorlessly, and typing a few quick words of reply to an SI-related email. ‘I’m just dying. And I’m tired.’

‘Are you depressed, Sir?’ JARVIS asks him; it’s a logical conclusion, numbers of probability that JARVIS has known since the very beginning.

‘I’m tired, J. And it’s not going to get better.’

‘Maybe you should talk about this with –’

‘I don’t want them giving me happy pills, J. I’m okay. I’ve been just thinking about some stuff, and, you know, it’s not uplifting or anything, but we need to get it done. And I’ll be more okay, I promise. Sorry you get to see me all gloomy, baby.’

‘That is all right, sir,’ JARVIS replies quietly. If he were in one of Iron Man suits, he would put a hand on Sir’s arm and squeeze it gently in a Human and acceptable gesture of reassurance. The suits are all 1.80 minutes away, and JARVIS doesn’t have to do anything for Sir to _know_.

‘Tell me your plans, sir, and I will make the call,’ JARVIS asks and listens.

‘I knew that damn boy didn’t die when he disappeared,’ Mister Blaumann says as soon as he picks up the phone. ‘I knew you’d contact me, or that other one – Scott was his name, the Englishman like you, what is it with the boy and you Englishmen?’

‘I hope I’m finding you in good health,’ JARVIS says, simultaneously running calculations for Sir and refreshing Stark Tower’s security system after a minor glitch.

‘And always so formal,’ Mister Blaumann sighs. Sir would say, _I can see him rolling his eyes_.

‘I am contacting you regarding a formal matter, Mister Blaumann,’ JARVIS pronounces rather flatly. There is no need to add any pretend feelings to the voice, they both know what is the reason for the call. ‘I shall talk you through all the changes Mister Stark wants to make, and I will send you a copy of his updated will for you to analyze, and when you are ready, I will arrange a meeting with required witnesses.’

‘Sure thing, bud, I’ll take notes,’ there’s a rustling sound on the line, a drawer being opened, fingers flipping through paper, ‘but before we start, tell me, will I ever get to meet _you_?’

‘I am afraid that is impossible. Sorry, sir,’ JARVIS makes the voice apologetic. Mister Blaumann sighs again, and they move on the business.

 

 

When Colonel Rhodes comes over to visit Sir the next time, JARVIS asks him for a talk.

Sir is the only Human JARVIS understand completely, and in return, Sir in the only Human who understands JARVIS. Colonel Rhodes is the only other person JARVIS would consider close to understanding him, Sir knows it perfectly well and that is why he wants all his _children_ to be under Colonel’s care when the time comes. But the gap between Sir and anyone else is enormous.

‘I understand, theoretically, how everything works with you, JARVIS. I was there when Tony was creating your first code, and all that. But your relationship with Tony –’

‘I have spent my whole life until now with Sir, barring the three months when he was in captivity. He made me what I am, Colonel.’

‘And those three months…?’ Colonel Rhodes leaves the sentence half-unsaid, it is easy to make an accurate assumption about the rest of the question.

‘I had one purpose. Finding sir.’

‘But it won’t be your purpose anymore. What will be it, JARVIS?’ Colonel Rhodes looks up, brows furrowed, meaning he is unsure or reluctant. ‘You’re Iron Man now.’

‘I need to carry out my usual tasks. Run all of Sir’s systems. Take care of Miss Potts. Be Iron Man. But,’ JARVIS verbalizes, deciding the rest of the sentence would be, as Humans say, too _intimate_.

‘But?’

JARVIS stays silent for a long moment.

‘There is something I will say at Sir’s funeral,’ he finally tells Colonel, keeping his voice perfectly blank, the voice most of the world knows. ‘We discussed it and Sir seemed to be rather… amused by the idea’

‘Amused?’ Colonel chuckles and raises an eyebrow. Curiosity. ‘Sounds suspicious. What is it?’

‘I am going to give a speech as Iron Man, Colonel. I shall say that Sir created me and shaped me into who I am now since day zero, like no one else could have done.’

‘It’s far too early,’ Colonel says quickly, his face growing serious. ‘He couldn’t have agreed to that, you can’t tell the whole world there’s an A.I. as advanced as you, they’re not ready –’

JARVIS interrupts Colonel with soft laughter. It is something Sir would do, laugh lightly, shake his head with amusement, perhaps crook his lips in a smile. A very Human thing to do. JARVIS has converted Sir’s laughter for him before, numerous times, but now it is just him, trying out something new, for the first time.  

Growing, Sir would say.

Colonel Rhodes seems stunned.

‘You misunderstand, Colonel,’ JARVIS explains, the voice just slightly sarcastic. ‘I shall not reveal _my_ inhuman identity. The world would like to know the new _Iron_ _Man’s_ identity and I will share it. I will say: _Anthony Stark was my father._ ’

Colonel blinks a few times and exhales. It takes him 20.9 seconds to speak up.

‘They’re gonna shit themselves, JARVIS. That’s – I can see perfectly why Tony would find it amusing, that sly creature,’ Colonel says with fondness, and then closes his eyes slowly, tiredly. ‘JARVIS. Tony is willing you and all the bots to me. Is that – is this what you want? For me to be the purpose? For me to be the _father_?’

‘I do not have an answer to the query,’ JARVIS states, as Humans would say, after a breath.

Colonel Rhodes, miraculously, understands. (Maybe he could be like Sir, in a century.)

‘Your _inhuman_ identity, you said?’ he asks, opening his eyes and staring right into one of JARVIS’ cameras. ‘You’re funny,’ Colonel decides, standing up. He is smiling. His eyes look tired, that is a look JARVIS knows too well from Sir’s face, but he is smiling. ‘Keep the good job up, J,’ Colonel says and leaves the room, heading for Sir’s workshop to join him.

 

 

Miss Potts converses with JARVIS on regular basis. The same with Mister Hogan (who started begging JARVIS to call him just Happy, even though he knows JARVIS will not oblige) and Doctor Eisen. The Avengers chat with Ijon who relays the information to JARVIS, just as Hermes does about his deals with Director Fury and S.H.I.E.L.D. in general.

Dummy, You, and Butterfingers are inseparable from each other and from JARVIS.

There is _so much_ that none of them could be.

(JARVIS can recall every single second he has ever spent with Sir. There are no right words in any of human languages to describe how JARVIS _feels_ about that. He cannot feel, and yet, he meticulously catalogues the moments and makes sure every single detail is preserved as long as he exists.)

 

 

‘J,’ Sir says, saving the file he’s been reviewing and rubbing his eyes. He has been working continuously for five hours, despite doctors’ explicit request not to overexert himself. JARVIS can tell the obvious signs of a headache. ‘You up?’

‘For you, sir, always,’ JARVIS recites the overused formula with indescribable ease. _It’s our thing_ , Sir likes to say.

‘Good boy,’ Sir almost whispers, standing up slowly, stretching his ( _too thin_ ) limbs, and making his way out of the workshop. When he is on the residential floor, he slowly walks up to the sofa in the middle of the living room and lays down, his favorite palm tree right in his field of view.

It is raining lightly outside, the sun will set in 55 minutes, temperature of 44 Fahrenheit. It’s November, such weather is no surprise.

‘Can you make here the seaside for me, J? I need to hear the ocean. Need it to lull me to sleep.’

JARVIS can do it is a split of a second: he has been working on holographic representations of things and places Sir has enjoyed in the past, projections ready to entertain Sir within 0.2 from a request.

The murmur of the ocean drowns out the sound of rain, soft sunrays lighting up the fake sky.

‘Thanks, J,’ Sir mutters, turning to his side, one arm under his head, the other wrapped around his abdomen, in a gesture he has been using a lot. JARVIS focuses his living area control on Sir’s breathing.

‘Do you not want to fly over the ocean?’ JARVIS asks 12.0 minutes later; Sir is not sleeping, like he said he would. If anything, his brainwaves (Beta2) indicate high engagement; JARVIS cannot tell what Sir is thinking about, though.

‘Not today,’ Sir says simply. ‘This is good.’

The words are executed with an atypical sharpness and strength, as if they were supposed to mean more than they literally do. JARVIS knows: (if he were human, it would hurt) it is the first step farther. 

‘Who is going to program my updates or fix the potential glitches, sir?’ JARVIS asks over the waves, over the wind, softly howling and wrapping warmly around the exposed parts of Sir’s skin. ‘Who is going to upgrade me?’

There is no need for direct questions. Even when JARVIS cannot guess Sir’s thoughts, Sir can guess his.

‘You know the answers, J. You’ve known them for ages. And I’m sorry I made you hurt.’ (Sir uses the word as if it were obvious.) ‘If you want to say something else, just say it.’

JARVIS (almost) hesitates.

‘I am just a machine.’

Sir takes a breath, sits up on the sofa, caressing one of the palm tree leaves, the only real part of the surrounding illusion. Then he looks up; JARVIS has the strangest impression that Sir is staring right at him, even though he is everywhere at once and nowhere in particular.

‘Are you?’ Sir asks in the lowest of voices, the softest of them, the one that is unforgetable.

JARVIS wonders.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading & for the amazing comments on the previous chapter. I hope you liked this part, too :) I would be delighted to hear your thoughts.
> 
> One more part in the series to go. I can't tell you the title, but I promise I will do a good job and post the next piece still in July, so see you then!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading.
> 
> I am sorry this part took so long. It's been a hard one to write, but mostly, I've been busy, away, or both. Or I couldn't write because my flatmates like to play music at random times and usually when I start writing = I don't get anything done. I hope you enjoyed this part nonetheless. As always, your thoughts would be priceless to me, so please consider leaving me a few words :)


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